I ought to
dig out--all the more because the Baron wants me to stay--but I've been
thinking a bit this afternoon and unusual problems demand unusual
solutions. You'll grant that?" Nero politely routed an excursive bug
from his path and lay down to listen.
"Mr. Poynter!" called a voice from the darkling trees behind him.
Mr. Poynter smiled and fell deliberately to filling the bowl of his
wildwood pipe. Gnarled and twisted and marvelously eccentric was this
wildwood pipe and therefore an object of undoubted interest. The bowl
had somehow eluded Philip's desperate effort to keep it of reasonable
dimensions and required a Gargantuan supply of tobacco.
"Mr. Poynter!"
"My Lord!" murmured Philip, staring ruefully into the pipe-bowl, "the
infernal thing is bottomless! Exit another can of tobacco. I'll have
to ask Johnny to buy me a barrel." And Philip flung the empty can into
the pool whence a frog leaped with a frightened croak.
"Philip!"
"Mademoiselle!" said Philip pleasantly.
Darkly lovely, Diane's eyes met his with a glance of indignant
reproach. Somehow her lips were like a scarlet wound in the gypsy
brown skin and her cheeks were hot with color.
"A wildwood elf of scarlet and brown!" thought Philip and hospitably
flicked away a twig or so with his handkerchief that she might sit down.
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