Munson Aldrich Havens

“ On a particular afternoon in June, Sir Peter, with his cigar, and John, in flannels, writing, at a table under the trees, both looked up to see Phyllis coming toward them, from the house, with her baby in her arms.
The garden was full of the perfume of roses. They blossomed everywhere. There was a pink bud in John's buttonhole, and a red one in Sir Peter's. Phyllis had a great bunch of white roses at her waist. Her gown was white, too: soft and lacy and clinging. That would have been John's description of it; and he is a poet. ”

“ Yesterday I told him I was coming down here to take tea with Mrs. Burbage. 'With Mrs. Burbage!' says he. 'Well, what next?' 'Now, heed my words,' says I. 'That woman is not as black as she's been painted.' And then he laughs. Childish, I say. But he's terrible down on you, Mr. Landless, because the baby's a boy. 'Mr. Landless has disappointed me,' says he. 'He knows her name should be Valentine.' 'But, Mrs. Landless wanted a boy,' says I, 'to call him Peter'; as she has, bless his darling little heart, that knows his old Farquharson! ”

“ Tea was served under the trees. The baby awakened as though for Peggy's express benefit. He spluttered and gurgled, and made queer faces in his charming way, selecting Peggy for the most fascinating attentions After tea, Phyllis and Peggy went into the house to exchange confidences. Peggy carried the baby.
Sir Peter and John did their utmost with Mark. Motoring, cricket, tennis, golf—all had their turn. He was amiability itself, but he would not and could not be made to talk. They were at their wit's end when Phyllis and Peggy rejoined them, and Phyllis took Mark off to the garden. ”