"You look much then at the wild flowers!" he exclaimed delightedly.
"There was a leaf back there on a mountain, the edge of white, a white
blossom in the heart like a patch of snow--"
"Snow-on-the-mountain!" exclaimed Diane. "I've looked for it for days."
"It shall be my ambition to bring you some," said the minstrel
gallantly. "I shall not forget."
Diane glanced furtively at the picturesque attire which her nomadic
guest wore with a certain dashing grace, and marveled afresh. It was
of ragged corduroy with a brightly colored handkerchief about the
throat which foiled his vivid skin artistically. Indeed there was more
of sophistication in the careful blending of colors than even the
normal seeker after health might deem expedient for his purpose.
"It is to few--to none indeed save you that I have confided the secret
of my minstrelsy," he said deferentially a little later. "Illness,
love of adventure, a longing to brush elbows with the world, a hunger
for the woodland--in the eyes of unromantic men these things are
weaknesses. You and I know differently, but nevertheless it is best
that I seem but a poor vagrant grinding forth a hapless tune for the
coppers by the wayside."
The minstrel gazed idly at the hay-camp.
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