“Don’t take it off, Mr. Otter,” she said, when the poet raised his hand to his hat. “I know how you hate the sun; and it is hot today; though the hotter it is the more I enjoy it, though I think our pretty Gerda here agrees with you .”

Jason, who had succeeded with a certain embarrassment in lifting his straw-hat a few inches from his head in a stiff, perpendicular direction, pulled it down once more over his forehead with grateful relief.

“What’s this?” said Wolf, trying to conceal his discomfort under an airy jauntiness. “What’s this between you two?”

“Your mother and I have had several walks together,” said Jason, “and she knows my ways.”