The minstrel alighted and fell stiffly to turning the crank,
whereupon with a fearful roll of the drum and a clash of cymbals, the
papier-mache snake began to unfold and "An Old Girl of Mine" emerged
from the cataclysm of sound and frightened the fish hawks over the
shallow water. A great blue heron, knee-deep in water, croaked with
annoyance, flapped his wings and departed.
When the dreadful commotion in the wagon at last subsided, the minstrel
came through the trees and sweeping off his sombrero, bowed and smiled.
"Merciful Heavens!" exclaimed the girl, staring.
It was Mr. Poynter.
"I'm sorry," regretted Mr. Poynter. "I'm really sorry I feel so
well--but I've got a music-machine." And seating himself most
comfortably by the fire, with a frankly admiring glance at his corduroy
trousers, silken shirt and broad sombrero, he anxiously inquired what
Diane thought of his costume. Indeed, he admitted, that thought had
been uppermost in his mind for days, for he'd copied it very faithfully.
"It's ridiculous!" said Diane, "and you know it."
There, said Mr. Poynter, he must disagree. He didn't know it.
"Well," said Diane flatly, "to my thinking, this is considerably worse
than blowing a tin whistle on the steps of the van!"
Mr.
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