ere in the forest carpet were wild geranium.

"There are alders by the river," mused Diane with shining eyes, "and
marsh marigolds; over there by a swampy hollow are a million violets,
white and purple; and the ridge is thick with mountain laurel. More
coffee?"

"Yes," said Philip. "It's delicious. I wonder," he added humbly, "if
you'd peel this potato for me. A one cylinder activity is not a
conspicuous success."

"I should have remembered your arm," said Diane quickly. "Does it pain
much?"

"A little," admitted Philip. "Do you know," he added guilelessly,
"this is a spot for singularly vivid dreams. Last night, for instance,
exceedingly gentle and skillful hands slit my shirt sleeve with a pair
of scissors and bathed my shoulder with something that stung
abominably, and somehow I fancied I was laid up in a hospital and
didn't have to fuss in the least, for my earthly affairs were in the
hands of a nurse who was very deft and businesslike and beautiful. I
could seem to hear her giving orders in a cool, matter-of-fact way, and
once I thought there was some slight objection to leaving her
alone--and she stamped her foot. Odd, wasn't it?"

"Must have been the doctor," said Diane, rising and adding wood to the
fire. "Johnny went into the village for him."

"Hum!" said Philip doubtfully.

"He had very nice hands," went on Diane calmly. "They were very
skillful and gentle, as you say. Moreover, he was young and
exceedingly good-looking."

"Hum!" said Philip caustically. "With all those beauty points, he must
be a dub medically. What stung so?"

"Strong salt brine, piping hot," said the girl discouragingly. "It's a
wildwood remedy for washing wounds."

"Didn't the dub carry any conventional antiseptics?"

"You are talking too much!" flashed Diane with sudden color. "The
wound is slight, but you bled a lot; and the doctor made particular
reference to rest and quiet."

"Good Lord!" said Philip in deep disgust. "There's your pretty
physician for you! 'Rest and quiet' for a knife scratch. Like as not
he'll want me to take a year off to convalesce!"

"He left you another powder to take to-night," remarked Diane severely.
"Moreover, he said you must be very quiet to-day and he'd be in, in the
morning, to see you."

Something jubilant laughed and sang in Philip's veins. A day in
Arcadia lay temptingly at his feet.

"Great Scott," he protested feebly. "I can't. I really can't, you
know--"