Pursuing the winding paths in as direct a line as the topographical possibilities of the wood admitted, they at length came upon a large lawn that skirted the trees and lay smooth and green before the shady verandah of the south side of the house. Several long, low cane chairs stood invitingly about the verandah, and upon one of these, stretched at full length, in utter and complete comfort, was Paul Charteris, in loose white flannel garb, a cigar between his lips, a novel in his hand. He sprang to his feet with an exclamation of welcome as Gerald, Hugh, and Teddie made their appearance across the lawn. "Now, you fellows, just make yourselves comfortable and cool off," Paul said in amused compassion, as he marked the heated condition of the trio, and his quick glance took stock of the unsuitability of their habiliments. "I will look up Jackson, and ask for something to drink." Hugh, glad to avail himself of the invitation, mincingly mounted the steps, and sank gratefully into the easiest chair, the other two likewise seating themselves. Paul, disappearing for a few moments, quickly returned, followed by a servant bearing a tray, containing various sparkling liquids in multifarious bottles. Over this good and cooling cheer conversation soon became easy and natural, Teddie becoming so much himself as to refer energetically to stand-up collars as a "rotten invention." "Look here, Charteris," he said, "perhaps, as you are alone, you won’t mind my taking it off for a bit," and he proceeded to unfasten the offending piece of starched linen, in accordance with his host’s warmly expressed advice, while Hugh surreptitiously slipped his poor tortured toes from their natural quarters into the main body of the shoe. "You don’t object to a pipe, Charteris?" Gerald inquired, producing from his pocket a well-worn briar-root, and, on Paul’s assurance that he often enjoyed one himself, Hugh and Teddie quickly produced two others for his edification. "Hazel received an invitation last night to spend a week with the Travers," Gerald announced conversationally, when all four were luxuriously smoking. "She is rather bothered about it; she does not care to leave the mater for so long." "She could cut the visit short," Paul said, not unwilling to suggest so pleasing a solution of the difficulty. "How—er—how would your sister go?" he added, prefiguring himself and Hazel taking the long drive together in his dogcart, through the beautiful countryside. But Gerald’s reply quickly extinguished any such day-dream. "Oh, young Travers would fetch her in the trap; that is easy enough," he said carelessly. "Is that Digby?" Paul asked quickly. "Yes," Gerald replied, "he is desperately gone on Hazel—makes an awful idiot of himself." "How old is he?" Paul asked curtly. "About two- or three-and-twenty," Teddie broke in. "He is a decent fellow enough if only he would not sing."