"Johnny bought them in the village." "Johnny," said Philip gratefully, "is a trump." Diane filled a kettle from a pail of water by the tree and smiled.
"There's a hammock over there by the tent," she said pleasantly.
"Johnny strung it up this morning.

The trees are drying nicely and presently I'm going to wander about the forest with a field glass and a notebook and you can take a nap." Philip demurred.

Finding his assistance inexorably refused, however, he repaired to the hammock and watched the camp of his lady grow neat and trim again.
On the bright embers of the camp fire, the kettle hummed.
"There now," said Philip suddenly, mindful of the hot, stinging wound-wash, "that is the noise I heard last night just after you stamped your foot and _before_ the doctor came." "Nonsense!" said Diane briskly.

"Your head's full of fanciful notions.

A bump like that on the back of your head is bound to tamper some with your common sense." And humming lightly she scalded the coffeepot and tin cups and set them in the sun to dry.