fire in
the corner of an old stone wall; and her famous wistaria-and-grape
arbor followed for nearly a quarter of a mile the wandering path laid
out years ago by cows on their way to water. What I discovered around
one of the curves of that path the day of Mrs. Jackson's garden tea
was as thrilling as anything I had ever chanced upon as a little girl.
It was Mr. Breckenridge Sewall sitting on the corner of a rustic seat
smoking a cigarette!

I had seen Mr. Sewall enter that arbor at the end near the house, a long
way off beyond lawns and flower beds. I was standing at the time with a
fragrant cup of tea in my hand beside the wistaria arch that forms the
entrance of the arbor near the orchard. I happened to be alone for a
moment. I finished my tea without haste, and then placing the cup and
saucer on a cedar table near-by, I decided it would be pleasant to
escape for a little while the chatter and conversation of the two or
three dozen women and a handful of men. Unobserved I strolled down
underneath the grape-vines.

I walked leisurely along the sun-dappled path, stopped a moment to reach
up and pick a solitary, late wistaria blossom, and then went on again
smiling a little to myself and wondering just what my plan was. I know
now that I intended to waylay Breckenridge Sewall. His attitude toward
Hilton had had somewhat the same effect upon me as the No Trespassing
and Keep Off signs when I was younger. However, I hadn't gone very far
when I lost my superb courage. A little path branching off at the right
offered me an opportunity for escape. I took it, and a moment later fell
to berating myself for not having been bolder and played my game to a
finish. My impulses always fluctuate and flicker for a moment or two
before they settle down to a steady resolve.

I did not think that Mr. Sewall had had time to reach the little path,
or if so, it did not occur to me that he would select it. It was
grass-grown and quite indistinct. So my surprise was not feigned when,
coming around a curve, I saw him seated on a rustic bench immediately in
front of me. It would have been awkward if I had exclaimed, "Oh!" and
turned around and run away. Besides, when I saw Breckenridge Sewall
sitting there before me and myself complete mistress of the situation,
it appeared almost like a duty to play my cards as well as I knew how. I
had been brought up to take advantage of opportunities, remember.

I glanced at the occupied bench impersona