"When do you think you'll go?" demanded Diane pointedly one morning as
she deftly swung her line into the river. "Unless you contrive to get
stabbed again," she added doubtfully, "I really don't see what's
keeping you."
"When I may help you break camp and escort you back to your aunt,"
replied Philip pleasantly, "I'll pack up my two shirts and my wildwood
pipe and depart, exceedingly grateful for my stay in Arcadia."
Diane bit her lip and frowned.
"Suppose," she flashed, with angry scarlet in her cheeks, "suppose I
break camp and leave you behind!"
"I'll go with you," shrugged Philip. "Don't you remember? I told you
so before. And I'll sit on the rear steps of the van all the way to
Florida and play a tin whistle."
Appalled by the thought of the spectacular vagaries which this Young
Man of the Sea might develop if she took to the road, Diane said
nothing.
"No matter how I view you," she indignantly exclaimed a little later,
"you're a problem."
"Settle the problem," advised Philip. "It's simple enough."
"He'll go presently," she told herself resentfully. "He'll have to."
"How it amuses these fish to watch me murder worms!" exclaimed Philip
in deep disgust. "Look at the audience over there! I attract 'em and
you get 'em! Miss Westfall, are you a slave driver?"
"What do you mean?" asked Diane cautiously.
Pages:
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116