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But if it seems to be getting late, look him up. He may fall asleep." After repeated indignant refusals which Mr. Poynter characteristically splintered, Diane, intensely curious, went with Mr. Poynter to the hay-camp for supper.
The Baron added that twice within the week he had passed the hay-camp but that by some unlucky fatality he had always contrived to miss the music-machine.
But sing of it he did with a swelling throat and a melodic quiver of nerve and sinew, and a curious dialogue followed. "A hay-camp is a very foolish thing, to be sure!" sang the bird with a dulcet shower of plaintive notes. "To be sure," said the voice of the girl's conscience, "to be sure it is. But how very like him!" "But but there was the bullet "
"You my secretary having spent a few days with the Sherrills on your way to join me after months of frivoling with a hay-camp, have been forced by telegram to depart before the fête de nuit to which Miss Sherrill begged our attendance. Rest assured he knows that too.
"Where is this persistent young nomad of the hay-camp anyway?" "I I have wondered myself." But with a quiver of impatience the horse had pawed the ground and the tiny bird flew off to a distant clump of palmetto. Diane rode hurriedly off into the flat-woods. It had been an unforgettable day, this day in the pine woods.
Whereupon the nomad of the hay-camp and his ruffled guest crossed swords again over a pot of coffee, with inglorious defeat for Diane, who departed for her own camp in a blaze of indignation. "I'll ignore him!" she decided in the morning as the green van took to the road again. "It's the only way. And after a while he'll most likely get tired and disgruntled and go home.
Mr. Poynter added that in the fashion of certain young darkies who infest the Southern roads, he would willingly stand on his head for a baked potato in lieu of a nickel, being very hungry. "You probably mean by that, that you're going to stay to supper!" said Diane. Mr. Poynter meant just that. "Where," demanded Diane, "is the hay-camp?" "Well," said Philip, "Ras is a hay-bride-groom.
Greatly astonished for this negro was apparently too lazy to talk when he deemed it unnecessary Diane took the birch bark and inspected it in mystification. A most amazing message was duly inscribed thereon. "Erastus has acquired a sinewy chicken from somebody's barn yard," it read. "Why not bring your own plate, knife, fork, spoon and a good saw over to my hay-camp and dine with me? "Philip."
How insistently the Baron had urged him to linger in her camp! To spy? A great wave of faintness swept over her. And there was Arcadia and the hay-camp and the mildly impudent indignities they all slipped accurately into place. "I I do not know!" she faltered at last in answer to his impetuous pleading. "If you will not see me again until I may think it all out " But there was danger in waiting.
And every morning we peel the bed that is, we dispense with a layer of mattress and presto! I have a fresh bed until the hay's gone. We bought a new load this morning." Swept by an irresistible spasm of laughter, Diane stared wildly about the hay-camp. "And Ras?" she begged faintly. "Well," said Philip slowly, "Ras is peculiarly gifted. He can sleep anywhere.
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