She was looking for the songs Phil had mentioned, which contained her name.

At the same time she also kept watch for the name of Philip.

She remembered she had read some lines one time about "Philip my King." As she pored over the poems in the dim light, for only the shaded lamp on the central table was burning, she heard steps on the porch outside.
The rain had stopped early in the afternoon, and the porches had dried so that the hammocks and chairs could be put out again.

Now voices sounded just outside the window where she sat, and the creaking of a screw in the post told that some one was sitting in the hammock.
Evidently it was Lloyd, for Phil's voice sounded nearer the window.

He had seated himself in the armchair that always stood in that niche, and was tuning a guitar.