“Twelve o’clock, gentlemen,” he said.  “My watch is quite accurate.”

Nobody said anything, being, as the S.-W.P. remarked, struck dumb.  But a moment afterward the hay-wagon started a cheer and the machines took it up.  Even the father “let loose,” as we learned, and the little girl sat back in her motor car and smiled through her tears.

But Willoughby was furious.  It seems he had recognized the horse.  “That’s my horse,” he snarled.  “You stole it from me.”

“As a matter of fact,” Percy retorted, “I found the beast wandering loose among the trees and I’m perfectly willing to return him to you.  I brought him out for a purpose.”

“To make a Garrison finish!”

“Not entirely.  To prove that you violated the contract by going into the forest to see if you could find me and gloat over my misery.  Instead you found—­By the way, Willoughby, did you see any wild-cats?”

“Those three hags are in this!” said Willoughby furiously.  “Are you willing to swear you made that silly outfit?”

“I am, but not to you.”

“And at that minute, if you’ll believe me,” said the S.-W.P., “the girl got out of her machine and walked right up to the Percy fellow.  I was standing right by and I heard what she said.  It was, curious, seeing he’d had no help and had gone in naked, as you may say, and came out clothed head to foot, with a horse and weapons and a watch, and able to make fire in thirty-one seconds, and a tent made of about a thousand rabbit skins.”

Tish eyed him coldly.

“What did she say?” she demanded severely.  “She said:  ’Those three dear old things!’” replied the S.-W.P.  “And she said:  ’I hope you kissed them for me.’”

“He did indeed,” said Aggie dreamily, and only roused when Tish nudged her in a rage.

* * * * *

Charlie Sands came to have tea with us yesterday at Tish’s.  He is just back from England and full of the subject.

“But after all,” he said, “the Simple Lifers take the palm.  Think of it, my three revered and dearly beloved spinster friends; think of the peace, the holy calm of it!  Now, if you three would only drink less tea and once in a while would get back to Nature a bit, it would be good for you.  You’re all too civilized.”

“Probably,” said Tish, pulling down her sleeves to hide her sunburned hands.  “But do you think people have so much time in the—­er—­woods?”

“Time!” he repeated.  “Why, what is there to do?”

Just then the doorbell rang and a huge box was carried in.  Tish had a warning and did not wish to open it, but Charlie Sands insisted and cut the string.  Inside were three sets of sable furs, handsomer than any in the church, Tish says, and I know I’ve never seen any like them.

Tish and I hid the cards, but Aggie dropped hers and Charlie Sands pounced on it.

“‘The sleeve is now about Dorothea,’” he read aloud, and then, turning, eyed us all sternly.