“Thank you, Vertumnus,” she said. “And now I must tell you what I came here to tell. You must know, sir, that I am not in the habit of sitting around on the grass in broad daylight dressed—as I was yesterday. If I did I should probably catch cold. Yesterday morning we—a friend and I—dressed up in costume and took each other’s pictures up there under the trees. Afterwards the fancy took me to come down here and—and ‘make believe.’ And then you popped on to the scene all of a sudden.”
“I see. Very rude of me, I’m sure. Of course, as we are in Arcady, and you are a nymph and I a—a god, I don’t understand at all what you are talking about; but I would like to see those pictures!”
“I’m afraid you never will,” she laughed.
“I’m not so sure,” he said thoughtfully. “Strange things happen in—Arcady.”
“Weren’t you the least bit surprised when you saw me? And when I—acted so silly?”
“I certainly was! Really, for a while—especially after you had gone—I was half inclined to think that I had been dreaming. You did it rather well, you know,” he added admiringly.
“Did I?” She seemed pleased. “Didn’t it sound terribly foolish when I spouted that about Apollo?”
“Not a bit! I—I half expected the sun to do something when you raised your hands to it; I don’t know just what; wink, perhaps, or have an eclipse.”
“You’re making fun of me!” she said dolefully.