Diana clasped her hands. "Oh, utter them," she begged. "Can't," laughed Philip, wiping his warm forehead with his shirt-sleeve. "The stage isn't set." Diana continued to look imploringly ardent. "'Drink to me only with thine eyes,'" she suggested. [Pg 25] [Pg 25] "That's the only way they'll let you do it nowadays," responded Philip, kicking the heels of his sneakers gently against the railing. Miss Burridge looked over her spectacles at Diana in her beseeching attitude, and her eyes widened still further as the girl went on slowly with her brown gaze fixed on Philip's quizzical countenance: "Dear me," thought Miss Priscilla. "I'd never have believed it of her." And it occurred to her for the first time that Philip Barrison was a handsome man. "Farewell," went on Diana, with soft fervor. "'Farewell, my own true love—'" "Farewell," sang Philip, falling into the trap and finishing the phrase. "'Farewe-ell, my own—true—love.'" "Oh," breathed Diana, and the way her clasped hands fell upon her heart caused Miss Priscilla much embarrassment. "I can scarcely wait," said the girl slowly, "to hear you sing a real song with a real accompaniment. There is such rare penetrating richness in the quality of your voice." Miss Burridge cleared her throat. "I shouldn't wonder if Miss Wilbur was a real[Pg 26] help to you, Phil," she said. "Young folks need encouragement." [Pg 26] "And soap-suds," added Philip, regarding his earthy hands and glancing merrily up at Diana, who was still standing in her attitude of adoration; but there was no answering merriment in those brown orbs. Her brain might tell her later that Miss Burridge's patronizing remark had been amusing, but she would be obliged to think it over. Philip jumped off the railing, whistling, and followed Miss Priscilla into the house and to the sink, while Diana, reminiscently humming "The Soldier's Farewell,"
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