“Oh no; and you must not say I am flirting if I cannot manage to love you enough to marry you, but I will try my best.”

“Don’t you love me, Syb?  I have thought of nothing else but you night and day since I saw you first.  Can it be possible that you don’t care a straw for me?” and a pained expression came upon his face.

“Oh, Harold, I’m afraid I very nearly love you, but don’t hurry me too much!  You can think me sort of secretly engaged to you if you like, but I won’t take your ring.  Keep it till we see how we get on.”  I looked for it, and finding it a few steps away, gave it to him.

“Can you really trust me again after seeing me get in such a vile beast of a rage?  I often do that, you know,” he said.

“Believe me, Hal, I liked it so much I wish you would get in a rage again.  I can’t bear people who never let themselves go, or rather, who have nothing in them to carry them away—­they cramp and bore me.”

“But I have a frightful temper.  Satan only knows what I will do in it yet.  Would you not be frightened of me?”

“No fear,” I laughed; I would defy you.”

“A tomtit might as well defy me,” he said with amusement.

“Well, big as you are, a tomtit having such superior facilities for getting about could easily defy you,” I replied.

“Yes, unless it was caged,” he said.

“But supposing you never got it caged,” I returned.

“Syb, what do you mean?”

“What could I mean?”

I don’t know.  There are always about four or five meanings in what you say.”

“Oh, thanks, Mr Beecham!  You must be very astute.  I am always thankful when I am able to dish one meaning out of my idle gabble.”

The glorious summer day had fallen asleep on the bosom of the horizon, and twilight had merged into dusk, as, picking up the basket, Harold and I returned cherry- and strawberry-less to the tennis court.  The players had just ceased action, and the gentlemen were putting on their coats.  Harold procured his, and thrust his arms into it, while we were attacked on all sides by a flood of banter.

My birthday tea was a great success, and after it was done we enjoyed ourselves in the drawing-room.  Uncle Jay-Jay handed me a large box, saying it contained a present.  Everyone looked on with interest while I hurriedly opened it, when they were much amused to see—­nothing but a doll and materials to make it clothes!  I was much disappointed, but uncle said it would be more in my line to play with that than to worry about tramps and politics.

I took care to behave properly during the evening, and when the good-byes were in full swing had an opportunity of a last word with Harold, he stooping to hear me whisper: 

“Now that I know you care, I will not annoy you any more by flirting.”

“Don’t talk like that.  I was only mad for the moment.  Enjoy yourself as much as you like.  I don’t want you to be like a nun.  I’m not quite so selfish as that.  When I look at you and see how tiny you are, and how young, I feel it is brutal to worry you at all, and you don’t detest me altogether for getting in such an infernal rage?”