He's greatly
excited. Let me pour you some coffee. I sincerely hope you're not too
fastidious for tin cups?"
"A tin cup," said Philip with engaging candor, "has always been a
secret ambition of mine. I once acquired one at somebody's spring
hut--er--circumstances compelled me to relinquish it. It was really a
very nice cup too and very new and shiny. Since then, until now, my
life, alas! has been tin-cupless."
Diane carved the smoking fish in ominous silence.
"Do you know," she said at length, "I've felt once or twice that your
anecdotes are too apt and--er--sparkling to be overburdened with truth.
Your mechanician, for instance--"
Philip laughed and reddened. The mechanician, as a desperate means of
prolonging conversation, had served his purpose somewhat disastrously.
"Hum!" said he lamely.
"I shan't forget that mechanician!" said Diane decidedly.
"This now," vowed Philip uncomfortably, "is a _real_ fish!"
Diane laughed, a soft clear laugh that to Philip's prejudiced ears had
more of music in it than the murmur of the river or the clear, sweet
piping of the woodland birds.
"It is," she agreed readily. "Johnny caught him in the river and I
cooked him."
"Great Scott!" exclaimed Philip, inspecting the morsel on his wooden
plate with altered interest, "you don't--you can't mean it!"
"Why not?" inquired Diane with lifted eyebrows.
Pages:
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80