"At your age, Genevieve!" exclaimed Philip sternly. "What shall I do with the extravagance and artificiality of this generation! Don't you know, Genevieve, that the money you spend for powder should go into the missionary box? You poor, lost, little soul!"
Genevieve giggled delightedly, and Miss Burridge, at the window, exclaimed:
"There's Miss Wilbur now, Phil, looking at the garden bed."
"If I were she," said Veronica, "I wouldn't have a word to say to you after the way you wasted last evening."
"If only she thought so, too!" groaned Philip. "But I'm not in it with her astronomy map for June. She is a hundred times more interested to know where Jupiter and Venus are than where I am—natural, I suppose—all in the family." He threw open the kitchen door and, standing on the step, threw kisses toward the group within.
"Good-bye, summer!" he sang. "Good-bye, good-bye."
The beauty of his voice had its usual effect on Diana, who stood by the strip of green, growing things, looking in his direction, her lips slightly parted over her pretty teeth.
"You see I'm good-bye-ing," he said, approaching her.
"Are you leaving us?" she returned, allowing her clasped hands to fall apart. "See how well the sweet peas are doing."
"Yes, I'm leaving you all in good shape. Do you think you can go on behaving yourselves without my watchful guardianship and Christian example?"