It was a lovely summer evening, toward the end of July, that the party of friends were all together upon the lawn; they had drawn the garden chairs up, and, after the game of croquet in which Madeleine and Howard had succeeded in beating Ethel and Martin, were prepared to devote the remainder of the evening to chat. Seeing this, Mr. Morton had put away his book, and drawn up his chair beside them, while Mrs. Morton, regardless of falling dews and rising damp, had followed the example of her husband.
"Now," said Mr. Morton, "short holidays, like this Saturday afternoon, are good; but are not long holidays better? And now that everybody is thinking of taking a trip somewhere or other, should not we ‘do as Rome does,' and think of the same thing?"
"I suppose, sir, we all have been thinking of it, more or less, for the past year," said Martin; "and I for one must think of it seriously, for my holidays are fixed by official rules, and begin very soon."

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