trees. I trust he will not hesitate to use it until he is strong
again. Fortunately we are equipped for emergency."

The Baron bowed gratefully.

"You are a young woman of exceeding common sense!" he said with deep
respect.

Philip was very grateful that the Baron had not misunderstood; a breath
might shatter the idyllic crystal into atoms.

Later, when the Baron had departed, Philip flushed suddenly at the ugly
suspicion rising wraithlike in his mind. He was accustomed to the
Baron's subtleties.

"Mr. Poynter!" called Diane.

Mr. Poynter perversely went on whittling out the hollow of his wildwood
pipe.

"Mr. Poynter!"

The bowl, already sufficient for a Titan's smoke, grew a trifle larger
and somewhat irregular. Carving had conceivably injured Mr. Poynter's
hearing, for he kept on whistling.

"Philip!" said Diane and stamped her foot.

"Yes?" replied Philip respectfully, and instantly discarded the Titan's
pipe to listen.