"But you wrote it, did you not?" he asked, beneath his breath. "I dashed it off in twenty minutes," said the other. "But it was yours?" insisted Mr. Hopworthy. "When I wrote that little story----" said Mr. Archer Ferris. "'The Story of Ignatius, the Almoner?'" prompted Mr. Hopworthy, with unnecessary insistence. "'The Story of Ignatius, the Almoner,'" repeated Mr. Ferris, flushing slightly, while Mr. Hopworthy seemed to clutch the table to keep himself from bounding upward. "I was convinced of it!" he cried. "No other hand could have penned it. The pith, the pathos, passion, power, and purpose of the tale were masterly, and yet it was so simple and sincere, so logical, so convincing, so inevitable, so----" "Spare me," protested Mr. Ferris, not at all displeased. "But it had a sort of rudimentary force, I own." "And have you read it, Miss Dunbar?" inquired Mr. Hopworthy, almost letting slip one anchor. "No," she replied, "but I have laid it aside to read. I shall do so now with added pleasure." "Unless the author would consent to tell it to us in his own inspired words----" said Mr. Hopworthy, regarding his boot toe with interest. Miss Dunbar caught at the suggestion. "Oh, do!" she pleaded. "I should so love to hear a story told by the author." "An experience to remember," murmured Mr. Hopworthy. "I am afraid it would be rather too long to tell this afternoon," demurred the author, with a glance of apprehension toward the sky. "But you dashed it off in twenty minutes," the other man reminded him. "That is another reason," said the writer. "Work done with such rapidity is apt to leave but a slight impression on the memory." "Perhaps a little turn about the grounds----" suggested Mr. Hopworthy. Miss Dunbar had put up her amber parasol, and the lace about it fell just across her eyes. This left the seat beside her free. "Perhaps a little turn----" urged Mr. Hopworthy again. Mr. Ferris regarded him defiantly. "As you have read my story, sir," he said, "I can scarcely hope to include you in my audience." "But it is not at all the sort of thing one is satisfied to hear but once," Mr. Hopworthy declared, in a tone distinctly flattering. Mr. Ferris moved uneasily. "I really forget how it began," he asserted. "Perhaps another time----" "If I might presume to jog your memory----" said Mr. Hopworthy, with deference. "Oh, that would be delightful!" exclaimed Miss Dunbar. "With two such story-tellers, I feel just like Lalla Rookh." Mr. Ferris was upon his feet at once. "I suggest we adjourn to the striped tent," he said; "they have all sorts of ices there." "Oh, but I mean the Princess, not frozen punch," declared Mabel, settling herself more securely in the corner of the garden seat. "Please sit down, and begin by telling me exactly what an almoner is."