leopatra sighed. "I hate all games."

"You used to like it so!" her mother expostulated.

Then suddenly there came the sound of shrieks from the direction of the
lawn, and Guy's voice was heard again: "I say, Denis, old man," it said,
"do attend to the game, please; you can flirt with Leonetta later on."

Cleopatra put down her embroidery with a jerk and pressed a hand
spasmodically to her brow. "Don't you think it's dreadfully hot here?"
she exclaimed.

Mrs. Delarayne frowned. "My dear, you couldn't have a cooler place in
all Brineweald. Take some lemonade." Then after a pause during which she
made another brief examination of her daughter's looks, she added: "I
certainly think you ought to go and lie down; but I do wish they
wouldn't shout so."

Then she took up her novel again.

A few minutes passed thus, Mrs. Delarayne pretending to read, and
wondering all the while whether Agatha had not perhaps overstated
Cleopatra's trouble; and Cleopatra working frantically like one who is
determined not to think at all.

All of a sudden Leonetta came racing down the path from the lawn, and
dashed past her mother and sister, with Denis close at her heels.

Mrs. Delarayne looked up, and her expression was one of annoyance. She
saw Denis catch her younger daughter just as she reached the shrubbery
concealing the kitchen end of the house from the garden.

"Leo, will you give that up!" panted Denis.

They were only a few yards away, and Mrs. Delarayne followed the whole
proceeding with a frown. "Well, tell me first what it is!" rejoined the
flapper, holding her hands behind her back, and smiling defiantly at
him.

"I thought you two were playing tennis," Mrs. Delarayne cried aloud,
with just a suggestion of indignation, and craning her neck so as to be
seen by them.

"Oh, we've done with that long ago," Leonetta replied, obviously a
little excited.

"It's my note-book," said Denis, "it must have fallen out of my pocket."
He caught the girl by the arm, and she laughed. Then quickly shaking him
off, she dashed up the garden with Denis close behind her.

"The game of chasing and being chased," said a familiar voice, and
Cleopatra looked up. It was Vanessa, followed by all the motoring party.

"Yes, the oldest game of mankind," added Sir Joseph.

"And one of which I suppose the human female never grows tired," Mrs.
Delarayne observed rising.

"Any excuse will do," Vanessa continued, resting a hand gently on
Cleopat