Rollo laughed heartily at this idea and said, "Then, according to that, you must have supper at midnight!"

"You are quite right," answered Stella's mother.

"And breakfast at noon next day."

"Very often, I admit. But Sat.u.r.day and Sunday are holidays and we are always up betimes. Come, what shall we do? Rollo, you propose something."

All the company, of which there was about a score of folk of various ages, looked at Rollo expectantly, causing him to feel much embarra.s.sed, but he spoke up bravely and said, "Since it is a holiday I suppose we may as well play games. Shall we play at catch-as-catch-can or blindman's buff,--or should you prefer an indoor-game such as pillows-and-keys or post-office? The latter, I think I ought to say, are kissing games."

"O fie! for shame!" they all cried. "It is too early in the day."

"Come, Rollo," said a very pretty young lady whose name was Miss Lois.

"Monty and I are going to play tennis."

"Alas! I fear I cannot," said Rollo sadly. "It is like battledore and shuttlec.o.c.k, is it not? I think, if you do not mind, I will watch Mr.

Bradley and his friend Mr. Robbins play at golf, which is a game I have never witnessed, though I have often seen gentlemen falling over their golf-sticks in the city train-cars."

"Right you are," said Monty as Rollo strolled after Mr. Bradley, who was Stella's father, and his friend, Mr. Robbins.

"Such larks!" thought Rollo, as he watched the two gentlemen place the small white b.a.l.l.s on mounds like mole-hills, and then knock them far away.

"We are aiming at that little red flag," said Mr. Robbins, whom Rollo had secretly nicknamed Robin-Redface.

"Thank you, sir," said Rollo, "I should never have guessed it."

For a time all went well. The two gentlemen hit the ball with great skill and seemed well pleased with their success. Rollo, too, delighted in the velvety lawns about him, and marvelled to see all the hay in so early in the season.

Thus the morning pa.s.sed very quickly, but toward noon things began to turn out not so agreeably. First Mr. Bradley, and then Mr. Robbins, knocked their golf-b.a.l.l.s into places where it was impossible to find them, search as they might. This was great fun for Rollo, who thought it was like looking for field-sparrows' nests, and he kept fooling the two gentlemen, crying, "Oh, here it is!--No, it is only a stone!

Oh, here it is!--No, it is only a mushroom," until Mr. Bradley took him by the shoulder and spoke to him very roughly.

Then they came to a pretty little pond where Rollo longed to stop and fish. Mr. Robbins placed his ball on a little mound and very skilfully hit the pond right in the middle.

"Bravo!" cried Rollo.

To his surprise Mr. Robbins turned and said something which I cannot print, but which caused Rollo's cheeks to turn a deep crimson. In fact he called Rollo a very bad name.

Then Mr. Bradley, as if imitating Mr. Robbins, hit the pond in almost the same spot. It was then Mr. Robbins' turn to cry "bravo," which he did, and, to Rollo's dismay, Stella's father twice, at least, took the name of his Maker in vain.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Mr. Robbins turned and said something which I cannot print"]

You may be sure it was in vain, for, from then on, things went from bad to worse, until Rollo could stand it no longer. He turned and walked quietly back toward the house.

The gentlemen did not notice his departure; they were too busy digging holes in the ground and throwing sand out of a ditch which, to Rollo, seemed deep enough already.

"Never," thought Rollo, "have I seen men dig up so much ground without either putting anything in or taking anything out."

As Rollo neared the house he noticed that the tennis-ground was deserted. Two rackets lay on the terrace-steps. He crossed the terrace quietly and peered into the dim living-room within which he saw Monty and Miss Lois sitting on a sofa.

"Hurrah," cried Rollo, bounding into the room, "may I join you?"

They were playing pillows-and-keys.

ROLLO'S EVENING WITH UNCLE GEORGE

IN WHICH OUR HERO UNDER THE TUTELAGE OF AN EXPERT, BECOMES A BOY-ABOUT-TOWN

One cool morning in the early autumn, Rollo was sitting on the red velvet ha.s.sock which his mother had given him for his birthday, his chin resting on the sill of the window which faced toward Park Avenue.

Below was a pleasant picture of green s.p.a.ces and cheerful nursemaids attentively watching the tall constable on the corner, while their little charges darted nimbly amid the pa.s.sing automobiles whose black tops glittered like the backs of large beetles. This was a scene which Rollo had often contemplated with much satisfaction, but to-day he found no pleasure in it whatsoever. Suddenly he heard a light step behind him and turning perceived that Jonas had entered the room, silently, as was his custom.

"Jonas," said Rollo, crossly, "I wish you would not steal up behind me as you do. Since we have moved to the city and you have become my mother's social secretary, instead of the hired man, you wear shoes which do not warn me of your approach by their squeaking. It is not right to spy so."

Now this was very rude of Rollo, and it may be plainly seen that he was in an ill-humour, but Jonas only smiled pleasantly, which made Rollo more angry than ever.

"You are mistaken, Rollo," said Jonas. "I was not spying upon you. In fact, quite the contrary, it was expressly to see you and deliver a message that I came into the room."

"A message!" cried Rollo, "and from whom, pray?"

"From your Uncle George," answered Jonas. "He wishes to know if you could dine with him to-night and go to the theatre."

Rollo's face lighted up with pleasure, but he replied seriously, "To-night? Let me see; to-day is Thursday, is it not? I do not think I have any engagement for this evening."

Of course Rollo knew very well that he had no engagement, but he had learned that in the city it was not considered polite to accept any invitation without a certain amount of hesitation. When Jonas had left the room, however, Rollo leaped about with many a caper, and shouted "Hurray!" to himself. He no longer felt gloomy and contrary, but was quite satisfied with the world which had looked so dark to him a few moments before. At exactly seven o'clock in the evening, Rollo was ready and waiting, dressed in his best suit with a new tie which his father had purchased for ten cents from a peddler in the lower part of the city. Rollo's father once said to him, "My son, buy everything you can from a cart. You get more for your penny."

Uncle George came promptly as he had promised and Rollo drove off with him gaily in a bright yellow taxicab. Rollo's uncle has not lately been mentioned in these stories. He was a younger brother of Rollo's mother, and Rollo liked him very much, partly because he was always gay and light-hearted, and partly because his father did not seem to approve of Uncle George. Rollo's father frowned very severely when he saw the yellow taxicab, but since he was not paying for it he said nothing.

"I am going to take you to my club," said Uncle George.

"A club!" cried Rollo. "What is that?"

"I will tell you," said Uncle George. "A club is a place of refuge from one's family. It is an organization where a man can order what he likes for dinner, when he likes. It is a place where he can be sure that his letters will not be opened by mistake."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Rollo never dreamed that ladies could be so beautiful"]

"Could my mother belong to this club?" asked Rollo.

"No; only gentlemen are admitted."

"But could my father join such an organization?"

"No, not the club I have in mind. I do not think even your father could become a member."

"What a delightful place!" said Rollo.

"Indeed it is so," said his uncle. "But here we are."