CHAPTER XI

IN THE CAMP OF THE GYPSY LADY

FROM a garish dream of startling unpleas-antness, Philip Poynter stirred and opened

his eyes." Well, now," he mused uncomfortably, "this

is more like it! This is the sort of dream to have II wonder I never had sufficient wit to carve outone like this before. Birds and trees and windfussing pleasantly around a fellow's bed-andby George! those birds are making coffee!"

There was a cheerful sound of flapping canvasand vanishing glimpses of a woodland shot withsun-gold, of a camp fire and a pair of dogs romp-ing boisterously. Moreover, though his bed wasbarely an inch from the ground to which it wasstaked over a couple of poles, it was exceedinglyspringy and comfortable. Not yet thoroughlyawake, Philip put out an exploring hand.

"Flexible willow shoots!" said he drowsily,"and a rush mat! Oberon had nothing on me.Hello!" A dog romped joyfully through theflapping canvas and barked. Philip's dream boatdocked with a painful thud of memory. Winc-ing painfully he sat up.

"Easy, old top " he advised ruefully, as80

cilit

Dian swng lghty up th forst ath

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In the Camp of the Gypsy Lady 81

the dog bounded against him. "It would seemthat we're an invalid with an infernal bump onthe back of our head and a bandaged shoulder."He peered curiously through the tent flap andwhistled softly. "By George, Nero," he addedunder his breath, " we're in the camp of my beau-tiful gypsy lady!"

There was a bucket of water by the tent flap.Philip painfully made a meager toilet, glanceddoubtfully at the coarse cotton garment whichby one of the mystifying events of the previousnight had replaced the silk shirt he had wornfrom Sherrill's, and emerged from the tent.

It was early morning. A fresh fire was crack-ling merrily about a pot of coffee. Beyondthrough the trees a river of swollen amberlaughed in the morning sunlight under a cloud-less sky. The ridge of a distant woodland wasdeeply golden, the rolling meadow lands ofclover beyond the river bright with iridescentdew. But the storm had left its trail of brokenrush and grasses and the heavy boughs of thewoodland dripped forgotten rain.

A girl presently emerged from the trees bythe river and swung lightly up the forest path,her scarlet sweater a vivid patch in the lesserlife and color all about her.

"Surely," she exclaimed, meeting Philip'sglance with one of frank and very pleasant con-

82 Diane of the Green Van

cern, "surely you must be very weak! Why notstay in bed and let Johnny bring your breakfastto you?"

"Lord, no!" protested Philip, reddening. "Ifeel ever so much better than I look."

" I'm glad of that," said Diane, smiling. " Youlost a lot of blood and bumped your head dread-fully on a jagged rock. Would you mind," herwonderful black eyes met his in a glance of frankinquiry, "would you mind- explaining? Therewas so much excitement and storm last night thatwe haven't the slightest notion what happened."

"Neither have I!" exclaimed Philip ruefully.The girl's eyes widened."How very singular!" she said."It is indeed!" admitted Philip."You must be an exceedingly hapless young

man!" she commented with serious disapproval."I imagine your life must be a monotonous roundof disaster and excitement!"

"Fortuitously," owned Philip, "it's im-proving!"

Piqued by his irresistible good humor in adver-sity, Diane eyed him severely.

"Are you so in the habit of being mysteriouslystabbed in the shoulder whenever it storms," shedemanded with mild sarcasm, "that you canretain an altogether pernicious good humor?"

Philip's eyes glinted oddly.

In the Camp of the Gypsy Lady 83

" I'm a mere novice," he admitted lightly. " Ifmy shoulder didn't throb so infernally," he addedthoughtfully, "I'd lose all faith in the escapade-it's so weird and mysterious. A crackle - alunge-a knife in the dark-and behold! I amhere, exceedingly grateful and hungry despitethe melodrama."

To which Diane, raising beautifully arched andwondering eyebrows, did not reply. Philip, fur-tively marking the firm brown throat above thescarlet sweater, and the vivid gypsy color be-neath the laughing dusk of Diane's eyes, de-voutly thanked his lucky star that Fate had seenfit to curb the air of delicate hostility with whichshe had left him on the Westfall lake. Well,Emerson was right, decided Philip. There is aninevitable law of compensation. Even a knifein the dark has compensations.

"Johnny," said Diane presently, briskly dis-interring some baked potatoes and a baked fishfrom a cairn of hot stones covered with grass,"is off examining last night's trail of melo-drama. He's greatly excited. Let me pour yousome coffee. I sincerely hope you're not too fas-tidious for tin cups?"

"A tin cup," said Philip with engaging can-dor, "has always been a secret ambition of mine.I once acquired one at somebody's spring but-er - circumstances compelled me to relinquish

84 Diane of the Green Van

it. It was really a very nice cup too and verynew and shiny. Since then, until now, my life,alas! has been tin-cupless."

Diane carved the smoking fish in ominoussilence.

"Do you know," she said at length, "I've feltonce or twice that your anecdotes are too apt and-er-sparkling to be overburdened with truth.Your mechanician, for instance-"

Philip laughed and reddened. The mechani-cian, as a desperate means of prolonging conver-sation, had served his purpose somewhat disas-trously.

"Hum!" said he lamely." I shan't forget that mechanician! " said Diane

decidedly."This now," vowed Philip uncomfortably," is

a real fish!"Diane laughed, a soft clear laugh that to

Philip's prejudiced ears had more of music in itthan the murmur of the river or the clear, sweetpiping of the woodland birds.

"It is," she agreed readily. "Johnny caughthim in the river and I cooked him."

"Great Scott!" exclaimed Philip, inspectingthe morsel on his wooden plate with altered in-terest, "you don't-you can't mean it!"

"Why not? " inquired Diane with lifted eye-brows.

In the Camp of the Gypsy Lady 85

Philip didn't know and said so, but he glancedfurtively at the girl by the fire and marveled.

"Well," he said a little later with a sigh ofutter content, "this is Arcadia, isn't it!"

" It's a beautiful spot! " nodded Diane happily,glancing at the scarlet tendrils of a wild grape-vine flaming vividly in the sunlight among thetrees. There was yellow star grass along theforest path, she said absently, and yonder by thestump of a dead tree a patch of star moss wovenof myriad emerald shoots; the delicate splashes ofpurple here and there in the forest carpet werewild geranium.

"There are alders by the river," mused Dianewith shining eyes, "and marsh marigolds; overthere by a swampy hollow are a million violets,white and purple; and the ridge is thick withmountain laurel. More coffee?"

"Yes," said Philip. "It's delicious. Iwonder," he added humbly, "if you'd peel thispotato for me. A one cylinder activity is not aconspicuous success."

"I should have remembered your arm," saidDiane quickly. "Does it pain much?"

"A little," admitted Philip. "Do you know,"he added guilelessly, " this is a spot for singularlyvivid dreams. Last night, for instance, exceed-ingly gentle and skillful hands slit my shirt sleevewith a pair of scissors and bathed my shoulder

86 Diane of the Green Van

with something that stung abominably, and some-how I fancied I was laid up in a hospital anddidn't have to fuss in the least, for my earthlyaffairs were in the hands of a nurse who was verydeft and businesslike and beautiful. I couldseem to hear her giving orders in a cool, matter-of-fact way, and once I thought there was someslight objection to leaving her alone---and shestamped her foot. Odd, wasn't it ? "

" Must have been the doctor," said Diane, ris-ing and adding wood to the fire. "Johnny wentinto the village for him."

"Hum!" said Philip doubtfully."He had very nice hands," went on Diane

calmly. "They were very skillful and gentle,as you say. Moreover, he was young and exceed-ingly good-looking."

"Hum!" said Philip caustically. "With allthose beauty points, he must be a dub medically.What stung so?"

"Strong salt brine, piping hot," said the girldiscouragingly. "It's a wildwood remedy forwashing wounds."

"Didn't the dub carry any conventional anti-septics?"

"You are talking too much!" flashed Dianewith sudden color. "The wound is slight, but youbled a lot; and the doctor made particular ref-erence to rest and quiet."

In the Camp of the Gypsy Lady 87

"Good Lord!" said Philip in deep disgust."There's your pretty physician for you! 'Restand quiet' for a knife scratch. Like as not he'llwant me to take a year off to convalesce!"

" He left you another powder to take to-night,"remarked Diane severely. "Moreover, he saidyou must be very quiet to-day and he'd be in, inthe morning, to see you."

Something jubilant laughed and sang inPhilip's veins. A day in Arcadia lay temptinglyat his feet.

"Great Scott," he protested feebly. "I can't.I really can't, you know-"

"You'll have to," said Diane with unsmilingcomposure. "The doctor said so."

"After all," mused Philip approvingly, "it'sthe young medical fellows who have the finest per-ceptions. I do need rest."

Off in the checkered shadows of the forest acrow cawed derisively.

"Did you like your shirt?" asked Diane witha distracting hint of raillery under her long, blacklashes.

"It's substantial," admitted Philip gratefully,"and democratic."

"You've still another," she said smiling." Johnny bought them in the village."

"Johnny," said Philip gratefully, "is atrump."

88, Diane of the Green Van

Diane filled a kettle from a pail of water bythe tree and smiled.

"There's a hammock over there by the tent,"she said pleasantly. "Johnny strung it up thismorning. The trees are drying nicely and pres-ently I'm going to wander about the forest witha field glass and a notebook and you can takea nap."

Philip demurred. Finding his assistance in-exorably refused, however, he repaired to thehammock and watched the camp of his lady growneat and trim again.

On the bright embers of the camp fire, thekettle hummed.

"There now," said Philip suddenly, mindful ofthe hot, stinging wound-wash, "that is the noiseI heard last night just after you stamped yourfoot and before the doctor came."

"Nonsense!" said Diane briskly. "Yourhead's full of fanciful notions. A bump like thaton the back of your head is bound to tamper somewith your common sense." And humming lightlyshe scalded the coffeepot and tin cups and setthem in the sun to dry. Philip's glance followedher, a winsome gypsy, brown and happy, to thegreen and white van, whence she presently ap-peared with a field glass and a notebook.

" Of course," she began, halting suddenly withheightened color, "it doesn't matter in the least

In the Camp of the Gypsy Lady 89

-but it does facilitate conversation at times toknow the name of one's guest-no matter howaccidental and mysterious he may be."

"Philip!" he responded gravely but withlaughing eyes. "It's really very easy to remem-ber." Diane stamped her foot.

"I do think," she flashed indignantly, "thatyou are the most trying young man I've evermet."

"I'm trying of course--" explained Philip,"trying to tell you my name. I greatly regret,"he went on deferentially, "that there are anumber of exceptional circumstances which haveresulted in the brief and simple--Philip. Forone thing, a bump which muddles a man's com-mon sense is very likely to muddle his memory.And so, for the life of me, I can't seem to con-jure up a desirable form of address from you tome except Philip. And Philip," he addedhumbly, "isn't really such a bad sort of nameafter all."

There was the whir and flash of a bird's wingin the forest the color of Diane's cheek. An in-stant later the single vivid spot of crimson inPhilip's line of vision was the back of his lady'ssweater.