“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.  A one cylinder activity is not a conspicuous success.”

“I should have remembered your arm,” said Diane quickly.  “Does it pain much?”

“A little,” admitted Philip.  “Do you know,” he added guilelessly, “this is a spot for singularly vivid dreams.  Last night, for instance, exceedingly gentle and skillful hands slit my shirt sleeve with a pair of scissors and bathed my shoulder with something that stung abominably, and somehow I fancied I was laid up in a hospital and didn’t have to fuss in the least, for my earthly affairs were in the hands of a nurse who was very deft and businesslike and beautiful.  I could seem to hear her giving orders in a cool, matter-of-fact way, and once I thought there was some slight objection to leaving her alone—­and she stamped her foot.  Odd, wasn’t it?”

“Must have been the doctor,” said Diane, rising and adding wood to the fire.  “Johnny went into 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 exceedingly good-looking.”

“Hum!” said Philip caustically.  “With all those beauty points, he must be a dub medically.  What stung so?”

“Strong salt brine, piping hot,” said the girl discouragingly.  “It’s a wildwood remedy for washing wounds.”

“Didn’t the dub carry any conventional antiseptics?”

“You are talking too much!” flashed Diane with sudden color.  “The wound is slight, but you bled a lot; and the doctor made particular reference to rest and quiet.”

“Good Lord!” said Philip in deep disgust.  “There’s your pretty physician for you!  ‘Rest and quiet’ for a knife scratch.  Like as not he’ll want me to take a year off to convalesce!”

“He left you another powder to take to-night,” remarked Diane severely.  “Moreover, he said you must be very quiet to-day and he’d be in, in the morning, to see you.”

Something jubilant laughed and sang in Philip’s veins.  A day in Arcadia lay temptingly at his feet.