Part 12 (2/2)

”I'm glad we've got the tennis lawn,” said Myra; ”it's much smoother. Do you prefer the right-hand court, dear, or the left-hand?”

”We shall be very close to Nature to-night,” said Archie. ”Now we shall know whether it really is the nightjar, or Simpson gargling.”

We were very close to Nature that night, but in the early morning still closer. I was awakened by the noise of Simpson talking, as I hoped, in his sleep. However, it appeared that he was awake and quite conscious of the things he was saying.

”I can't help it,” he explained to Archie, who had given expression to the general opinion about it; ”these bally wasps are all over me.”

”It's your own fault,” said Archie. ”Why do you egg them on? I don't have wasps all over ME.”

”Conf--There! I've been stung.”

”You've been what?”

”Stung.”

”Stung. Where?”

”In the neck.”

”In the neck?” Archie turned over to me. ”Simpson,” he said, ”has been stung in the neck. Tell Thomas.”

I woke up Thomas. ”Simpson,” I said, ”has been stung in the neck.”

”Good,” said Thomas, and went to sleep again.

”We've told Thomas,” said Archie. ”Now, are you satisfied?”

”Get away, you brute,” shouted Simpson, suddenly, and dived under the sheet.

Archie and I lay back and shouted with laughter.

”It's really very silly of him,” said Archie, ”because--go away--because everybody knows that--get away, you a.s.s--that wasps aren't dangerous unless--confound you--unless--I say, isn't it time we got up?”

I came up from under my sheet and looked at my watch. ”Four-thirty,”

I said, dodged a wasp, and went back again.

”We must wait till five-thirty,” said Archie. ”Simpson was quite right; he WAS stung, after all. I'll tell him so.”

He leant out of bed to tell him so, and then thought better of it and retired beneath the sheets.

At five-thirty a gallant little party made its way to the house, its mattresses over its shoulders.

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