"Now I've got to go, Shiela," continued Cardross. "Hamil, you'll amuse yourself, won't you, until I return after luncheon? Shiela, Mr. Hamil doesn't care to play tennis; so if you'll find out what he does care to do--" He saluted the young people gaily and started across the lawn where a very black boy with a chair stood ready to convey him to the village and across the railroad tracks to that demure little flower-embowered cottage the interior of which presents such an amazing contrast to the exterior. CHAPTER VI ARMISTICE The young girl beside him had finished her guava, and now, idly swinging her tennis-bat, stood watching the games in the sunken courts below. "Please don't consider me a burden," he said. "I would be very glad to sit here and watch you play." "I have been playing, thank you." "But you won't let me interfere with anything that--" "No, Mr. Hamil, I won't let you interfere--with anything." She stood swinging her bat, apparently preoccupied with her own thoughts--like a very grave goddess, he thought, glancing at her askance--a very young goddess, immersed in celestial reverie far beyond mortal comprehension. "Do you like guavas?" she inquired. And, closing her own question: "But you had better not until you are acclimated. Do you feel _very_ sleepy, Mr. Hamil?" "No, I don't," he said. "Oh! You ought to conform to tradition. There's a particularly alluring hammock on the veranda." "To get rid of me is it necessary to make me take a nap?" he protested. "So you refuse to go to sleep?" "I certainly do." She sighed and tucked the tennis-bat under her left arm. "Come," she said, moving forward, "my father will ask me what I have done to amuse you, and I had better hunt up something to tell him about. You'll want to see the groves of course--" "Yes, but I'm not going to drag you about with me--" "Come," she repeated; and as he stood his ground obstinately: "Please?"--with a rising inflection hinting at command. "Why on earth don't you play tennis and let me sit and watch you?" he asked, joining and keeping step with her. "Why do you ask a woman for reasons, Mr. Hamil?" "It's too bad to spoil your morning--" "I know it; so in revenge I'm going to spoil yours. Our trip is called 'Seeing Florida,' so you must listen to your guide very attentively. This is a pomelo grove--thank you," to the negro who opened the gate--"here you see blossoms and ripe fruit together on the same tree. A few palmettos have been planted here for various agricultural reasons. This is a camphor bush"--touching it with her bat--"the leaves when crushed in the palm exhale a delightful fragr--" "Calypso!" She turned toward him with coldest composure. "_That_ never happened, Mr. Hamil." "No," he said, "it never did." A slight colour remained in his face; hers was cool enough. "Did you think it happened?" she asked. He shook his head. "No," he repeated seriously, "I know that it never happened."