Ingred, giggling nervously, counted the bubbles.
"A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I--It's 'I,' Queenie! No, there's another! It's 'J'! It's going to be 'J,' old sport! Aren't you thrilled?
Oh, I say! Whoever on earth is that ?" Following the direction of her sister's eyes, Quenrede looked through a veil of wind-blown hair, to see, standing among the stones, a stranger of the opposite sex, garbed in tweed knickers and leather gaiters.

One glance was enough.

The next second she turned, and beat a hurried and ignominious retreat to the sheltered side of the green mound.

Ingred, panting in the rear, followed her to cover.
Quenrede, very pink in the face, sat down on a clump of heather and immediately began to put up her hair.
"I never felt such an idiot in my life!" she confided with energy to her sympathetic audience of one.

"Ingred! That man knew what I was doing! I saw the horrid amusement in his face.