"Johnny caught him in the river and I cooked him." "Great Scott!" exclaimed Philip, inspecting the morsel on his wooden plate with altered interest, "you don't--you can't mean it!" "Why not ?" inquired Diane with lifted eyebrows.
Philip didn't know and said so, but he glanced furtively at the girl by the fire and marveled.
"Well," he said a little later with a sigh of utter content, "this is 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.