Part 15 (1/2)

He went toward her again, but she sprang behind the bench, Markham following, both intent upon their game. He had seized her again when suddenly over their very heads there was a sound of feminine laughter among the vines from which there immediately emerged a white satin slipper, a slender white ankle, followed quickly by another--draperies, and at last Hermia Challoner, who, swinging for a moment by her hands, dropped breathlessly upon the bench between them.

Markham, whose nose had been narrowly missed by the flying slippers, drew back in astonishment.

”h.e.l.lo!” panted Hermia, laughing. ”Reggie was chasing me, so I slipped over the bal.u.s.trade onto the pergola--” She stopped and looked with quick intuition from one to the other. ”Sorry I blunder'd in here, though, Olga--awfully sorry. Did I kick you in the nose, Mr. Markham?”

CHAPTER IX

OUT OF HIS DEPTH

Markham stammered something, but Olga was laughing softly. ”Hermia, darling, you always do go into things feet first, but it's perilous in French heels. Mr. Markham and I were just trying to decide whether this stone bench wouldn't be just the place to do your portrait. If you'll observe--”

The situation was so palpable. Hermia looked from one to the other amusedly. Markham was following Olga's artistic dissertation with the eye of dubiety, but their hostess was merciless.

”Olga, dear,” she inquired sweetly, ”did you know your back hair was down?”

”Oh, is it? How provoking! Georgette is positively worthless!”

Even Olga's resourcefulness was not proof against Hermia's persistent audacity, especially as she was aware of a smudge of face-powder on John Markham's coat lapel which could not have been attributed by any chance to the deficiencies of her unlucky maid.

”Poor Georgette!” said Hermia softly, watching Olga's fingers quickly twist the erring strand into place.

At this moment there was a sound of footsteps on the walk and Reggie Armistead, who, like an ubiquitous terrier, had at last found the scent, came down the arbor on the run with Trevvy Morehouse after him, a poor second, and emerged upon the scene.

”You're mine--” cried Reggie triumphantly. ”I win!” He moved forward and would have caught Hermia around the waist, but she dodged him.

”Reggie,” she cried, ”how dare you!”

”Oh, don't mind us,” laughed Olga.

”I don't--” he said stoutly. ”But I got here first, Olga, didn't I?”

”You surely did--”

”I'm glad to have witnesses. Hermia's dreadfully slippery, you know.”

Olga, who had dropped into a corner of the stone bench, looked up languidly.

”Would you mind telling us what it all means?” she asked.

Hermia laughed. ”May I, Trevvy?”

The excellent Trevelyan smiled politely and shrugged his shoulders.

”By all means--since I have no further interest in the matter.”

”It's too amusing. They were to give me ten minutes' start from the house--the two of them. Oh, what a lark!” she laughed. ”I made for the Maze, while they watched me from the drawing-room windows; but instead of going in, I skirted the edge and crept through the bushes on the other side. By the time they had reached the privet hedge, I had gone through the house from the kitchen to the terrace again, where I sat for ten minutes entirely alone laughing and watching those geese chasing each other around in the moonlight. I've never had such fun since I was _born_.”

”Geese! Oh, I say, Hermia!”

”Then Reggie came out sniffing the breeze and I had to run for cover, so I slipped over the bal.u.s.trade to the pergola, down which I crept on my hands and knees and dropped through--and here I am,” she concluded.