That the work progressed so swiftly was wonderful, even with the unlimited means of Neville Cardross to back his demands for haste.  And it might have been impossible to produce any such results in so short a period had there not been contractors in the vicinity who were accustomed to handle vast enterprises on short notice.  Some of these men, fortunately for Hamil, had been temporarily released from sections of the great Key West Line construction; and these contractors with their men and materials were immediately available for the labour in hand.

So all though February work was rushed forward; and March found the sunken garden in bloom, stone-edged pools full of lotus and lilies, orange trees blossoming in a magnificent sweep around the balustrade of the terrace, and, beyond, the graceful stone bridge, passable but not quite completed.  Neither were the great systems of pools, fountains, tanks, and lakes completed by any means, but here and there foaming jets trembled and glittered in the sunlight, and here and there placid reaches, crystal clear, reflected the blue above.

As for Palm Beach, visitors and natives had watched with liveliest interest the development of the great Cardross park.  In the height of the season visits to the scene of operations were made functions; tourists and residents gathered in swarms and took tea and luncheon under the magnificent live-oaks of the hammock.

Mrs. Cardross herself gave a number of lawn fetes with the kindly intention of doing practical good to Hamil, the success of whose profession was so vitally dependent upon the approval and personal interest of wealth and fashion and idleness.

Shiela constantly tormented him about these functions for his benefit, suggesting that he attire himself in a sloppy velvet jacket and let his hair grow and his necktie flow.  She pretended to prepare placards advertising Hamil’s popular parks for poor people at cut rates, including wooden horses and a barrel-organ.

“An idea of mine,” she suggested, glancing up from the writing-pad on her knees, “is to trim a dozen alligators with electric lights and turn them loose in our lake.  There’s current enough in the canal to keep the lights going, isn’t there, Mr. Hamil?  Incandescent alligators would make Luna Park look like a bog full of fireflies—­”

“O Shiela, let him alone,” protested Mrs. Carrick.  “For all you know Mr. Hamil may be dreadfully sensitive.”

“I’ll let him alone if he’ll let his beard grow horrid and silky and permit us to address him as Cher maitre—­”

“I won’t insist on that if you’ll call me by my first name,” said Hamil mischievously.

“I never will,” returned the girl.  Always when he suggested it, the faint pink of annoyed embarrassment tinted Shiela’s cheeks.  And now everybody in the family rallied her on the subject, for they all had come to call him Garry by this time.

“Don’t I always say ‘Shiela’ to you?” he insisted.