"Oh, not in the least."
Philip laughed and stooped again to his job.
"Let me see, Apollo—he struck liars and knew how to prescribe for the croup, didn't he, besides being a looker beyond all comers?"
Diana smiled. "You think of everything in terms of humor, do you not?" she rejoined.
"Perhaps—of most things, but not of you."
"Oh, I think of me most of all."
"Far from it," said Philip. "I wouldn't dare. If my voice gives you a thrill, yours gives me a chill."
"I can't believe that really," said Diana equably, watching Philip's expert handling of the trowel. "You are always laughing at me. I don't in the least understand why, but it doesn't matter at all. I think it is a quite laudable mission to make people laugh. What a good gardener you are, Mr. Barrison."
"Oh, isn't he, though!" exclaimed Miss Priscilla, emerging from the house. "Think of my luck that Phil really likes to fuss with flowers. Ox-chains couldn't drag him to do it if he didn't like to."