"There's water plantain over there in the bog," he said lazily, "and
swamp honeysuckle. And see," he turned out his pockets, "swamp apples.
Queer, aren't they? Johnny says they're good to eat. The honeysuckle
was full of them."
Diane bit daintily into the peculiar juicy pulp.
"A man of your pernicious good humor," she said greatly provoked, "is a
menace to civilization. You sap all the wholesome fire of one's most
cherished resentment."
"I know," admitted Philip humbly. "I'll be hanged yet."
"I can't see what in the world you find so absorbing over here," she
commented with marked disapproval. "All the while I was getting supper
I watched you. And you merely smoked and flipped pebbles in the pool
and kept supper waiting."
"You're wrong there," said Philip. "I've been thinking, too."
"I'd like to know just why you've been thinking so deeply!"
"Honest Injun?"
"Honest Injun!"
"Well," said Philip slowly, "I've been reviewing the possible mishaps
incident to a caravan trip to Florida."
"Mishaps!" Diane studied him in frank displeasure. "Are you a fussy
pessimist?"
"By no means. Merely--prudent." Philip's eyes narrowed thoughtfully
and he fell silent.
The iris shadows beyond the river deepened. A firefly or so flickered
brightly above the fields of clover.
Pages:
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100