wildwood pipe. Gnarled and twisted and marvelously eccentric was this
wildwood pipe and therefore an object of undoubted interest. The bowl
had somehow eluded Philip's desperate effort to keep it of reasonable
dimensions and required a Gargantuan supply of tobacco.

"Mr. Poynter!"

"My Lord!" murmured Philip, staring ruefully into the pipe-bowl, "the
infernal thing is bottomless! Exit another can of tobacco. I'll have
to ask Johnny to buy me a barrel." And Philip flung the empty can into
the pool whence a frog leaped with a frightened croak.

"Philip!"

"Mademoiselle!" said Philip pleasantly.

Darkly lovely, Diane's eyes met his with a glance of indignant
reproach. Somehow her lips were like a scarlet wound in the gypsy
brown skin and her cheeks were hot with color.

"A wildwood elf of scarlet and brown!" thought Philip and hospitably
flicked away a twig or so with his handkerchief that she might sit down.

"There's water plantain over there in the bog," he said lazily, "and
swamp honeysuckle. And see," he turned out his pockets, "swamp apples.
Queer, aren't they? Johnny says they're good to eat. The honeysuckle
was full of them."

Diane bit daintily into the peculiar juicy pulp.