"Famously," replied Philip. "She's given me waffles every morning."
"H'm!" grunted Aunt Maria. "I guess I can cook anything Priscilla Burridge can, give me the ingregiencies."
"The principal ingredient is a waffle iron. I'll send for one for you."
Diana had meanwhile been placed in a seat near her hostess, where she faced the line of cheerful red geraniums on the window-sill.
"Your first visit to the island, Miss Wilbur?" asked the old lady.
"Yes, Mrs. Dorking; but not the last, I assure you."
"You like it, then?"
"I think it is a fairy-tale place."
"Miss Wilbur has been accustomed to a summer home where the hand of man has been very busy and the foot of man has trodden out nearly all of Nature's earmarks. She finds she likes the raw material better," said Philip, leaning against the mantelpiece where odd shells and quaint China objects, half-dog, half-dragon, stood as memorials to Captain Steve Dorking's cruises. The swords of two swordfishes, elaborately carved, leaned near him.