mine has a Lotus Pool in his garden. It lies in a little dell embowered with wild roses and eglantine, among which the nightingale pours forth its amorous descant all the summer long. Within the pool the Lotuses blossom, and the birds of the air come to drink and bathe themselves in its crystal waters. . . .' Ah, and that reminds me," Priscilla exclaimed, shutting the book with a clap and uttering her big profound laugh—"that reminds me of the things that have been going on in our bathing-pool since you were here last. We gave the village people leave to come and bathe here in the evenings. You've no idea of the things that happened."
She leaned forward, speaking in a confidential whisper; every now and then she uttered a deep gurgle of laughter. ". . . mixed bathing . . . saw them out of my window . . . sent for a pair of field-glasses to make sure . . . no doubt of it. . . ." The laughter broke out again. Denis laughed too. Barbecue-Smith was tossed on the floor.
"It's time we went to see if tea's ready," said Priscilla. She hoisted herself up from the sofa and went swishing off across the room, striding beneath the trailing2
