Comfortable of mind, at ease in heart and body, I sat there, dangling one leg over the arm of the chair.  I was much at home in the midst of this easy, disjointed family group.

* * * * *

We were, the four of us—­Darrie, Hildreth, Ruth, and I—­seated together at our outdoor table, scooping out soft-boiled eggs.

Hildreth Baxter had boiled my two eggs medium for me ... to the humorous, affected consternation of Darrie and Ruth, which they, of course, deliberately made visible to me, with the implication—­

“You’d best look out, when Penton’s lazy little wife waits on you ... she is the one who generally demands to be waited on, and if—­”

* * * * *

And now, for the moment, all of us were combined against the master of the house ... furtively and jocularly combined, like naughty children....

Hildreth smuggled forth her coffee percolator, which she kept hidden from her husband’s search ... and we soon, by the aid of an alcohol stove, had a cup of fragrant coffee a-piece ... which Darrie made....

“Penton swears coffee is worse than whiskey, the rankest of poisons.  We have to hide the percolator from him.”

“He lies a-bed late, when he wakes.  He lies there thinking out what he will later on dictate to Ruth.... we can finish before—­”

But just then Penton himself came hurrying up the path from the little cottage.

When he saw what we were doing he gave us such a look of solemn disgust that we nearly smothered with laughter, which we tried to suppress.

“When you take that percolator off the table—­” he stood aloof, “I’ll sit down with you.”

Then we laughed outright, not in disrespect of him, but as children laugh at a humorous incident at school.

“Oh, yes, it might seem funny ... so does a drunken man who gives up his reason to a drug seem funny.... but it’s no more a joke than that ... coffee is a vile poison ...  I have a sense of humour,” he continued, turning to me, “just as keen as the next one ... but I know, by scientific research, just how much damage that stuff does.”

* * * * *

I read my sonnet to Penton, in a grave, respectful voice.

Peace was patched.  We then sat together, under the chequered shade of the big tree which towered over our table ...  Baxter waxed as eloquent as an angel ... the wonderful, absurd, little man.

Daniel came romping out for breakfast.

* * * * *

Penton reached for the morning’s mail.  He climbed into the hammock and read, with all the joy of a boy, the huge bunch of press clippings about himself, his activities, his work ... a daily procedure of his, I was to learn.  He chuckled, joked, was immensely pleased ... handed me various items to read, or read choice bits aloud to all of us.