An opportunity arose in the heat of the afternoon, when some irrepressibles of the younger set played lawn-tennis, and such of the elders as were not asleep looked on. The shade at that hour was confined to a limited space, and thither the lady spectators carried their camp-stools, and pressed one another more closely than the state of the weather made quite agreeable. Mrs Wilkie was the last to place herself, and it happened that she took ground at Mrs Naylor's side, who had planned her place nicely, to be in shadow, and yet be the last of her row, so as to be free at least on one side. "Mrs Wilkie?" she said, turning in surprise and displeasure, which she made no attempt to conceal. "Would you not be more comfortable farther back? It is less crowded, and the shadow is broader." "I'll do," Mrs Wilkie answered determinedly, unfurling an umbrella, which interfered considerably with Mrs Naylor's view. "If people would sit closer, there would be room enough. I see no reason for leading people to sit behind, and those of no poseetion at all taking room for two." "But your umbrella intercepts any little air there is." "I need it to keep off the sun." "I declare I shall suffocate! Pray take it down." "I won't! Why should I? Sit behind there; or go round to the front of the house. You'll get it all to yourself." "Really--Mrs Wilkie--but what else can one expect?" and she sighed with contemptuous resignation. Mrs Wilkie bridled, with a little snort, moved her stool an inch or two nearer, and held the umbrella in provoking proximity to Mrs Naylor's eye. "These promiscuous gatherings are dreadful," moaned Mrs Naylor. "This is the reward one may expect for not taking care whom we allow to slide into our intimacy." Then, in a very superior tone, she added, "I must beg of you to put down that umbrella." "You may beg till you're tired, ma'am; my umbrelly is going to stay as it is. To hear some people, out of little, country, back-door settlements! Ye would not think that it was a shanty among the stumps, they lived in at home. The pint of an umbrelly needn't trouble them so much. Does she think people are to be put about by sich as she? Her and her daughter setting up to trifle with gentlemen of intelleck and poseetion, forsooth! Yes, ma'am, ye may look! and be as mad as ye like. It's shame ye should be thinking of yourself and your girls--two sassy, underhand, designing brats!" "My good woman, what can you possibly know about me and my daughters? Were you ever in your life under the same roof with gentlefolks, before you came to Clam Beach?"