Arcadia, isn't it!"

"It's a beautiful spot!" nodded Diane happily, glancing at the scarlet
tendrils of a wild grapevine flaming vividly in the sunlight among the
trees. There was yellow star grass along the forest path, she said
absently, and yonder by the stump of a dead tree a patch of star moss
woven of myriad emerald shoots; the delicate splashes of purple here
and there 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