Philip vaulted up over the railing and took a seat beside her, regarding his earth-stained hands and then her serene countenance, whose gaze was bent upon him. He shook his head to toss the blond forelock out of his eyes.
"So my voice gives you a thrill, eh?"
"Oh, decidedly," was the devout response.
"That's a good thing. I thought perhaps you couldn't really be roused from your dreaminess before the fourth of July, but I have some tones that in that case will be warranted to set you and the echoes going at the same time."
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.
"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: