15 ^ 
A DAY OF PLAY 
“They are flowers grown up,” said Queenie, who 
had about finished her strawberries. 
“You will never grow up to look like a tree,” 
Mr. Percy told her. “You will always be a 
flower.” 
“I shall be a lady,” said Queenie in a way that 
made us all laugh. 
Before we had quite finished, Mr. Hayden burst 
into the summer-house. He had come up the long 
drive outlined by spruces, where the bridal-wreath 
is in bloom. 
“I declare,” he said, “it is an ill wind that blows 
nobody any good. Company drove me away from 
Nestly Heights, and here I stumble in on a party.” 
I had never seen Mr. Hayden more like the 
wind than at that moment. I wondered if Mr. 
Percy also noticed it. The trees appeared to wave 
a little more, now that he had come. 
He said that the shortcake was better than any 
he had had at Nestly Heights, which so pleased 
Mrs. Keith she cut him another slice. 
“Been talking to my boy about roses or wall- 
climbers?” he asked me. 
I told him, “Neither.” 
“Then it must have been about — ^about— well,” 
he said, “I will tell you as soon as I finish eating 
this shortcake.” 
