CHAPTER XIII.
Mr.Francis Charles Boland, propped up on one elbow, sprawled upon a rug spread upon the grass under a giant willow tree at Mitchell House, deep in the Chronicles of Sir John Froissart.

Mr.Ferdinand Sedgwick tip-toed unheard across the velvet sward.

He prodded Frances Charles with his toe.
"Ouch!" said Francis Charles.
"You'll catch your death of cold.

Get up! Your company is desired." "Go 'way!" "Miss Dexter wants you." "Don't, either.

She was coiled in the hammock ten minutes ago.