Philip smoked, removed an occasional wisp of hay from his hair and shied friendly pebbles at Richard Whittington.
Diane was busy making coffee when the third nomad appeared with his music machine, and, halting near her, alighted and fell stiffly to turning the eventful crank.
Instantly two terrible drumsticks descended and with globular extremities thumped, by no visible agency, upon the drum.

The cymbals clashed--and a long music record began to unfold in segments like a papier-mache snake.
"Well," exclaimed Diane fervently, "I do wish he'd stop! For all we've seen him so often he's never bothered us like this before." The unfortunate and frequently flagellated "Glowworm," however, continued to glow fearfully, impelled to eruptive scintillation by the crank, and the vocal lady "walked with Billy," and presently the minstrel came through the trees with his hat in his hand, his dark eyes very humble and deferential.
Now as Diane nodded pleasantly and smiled and held forth a coin, the wandering minstrel suddenly swayed, clapped his hand to his forehead with a choking groan and pitched forward senseless upon the ground at her feet.

Diane jumped.
"Johnny!" she exclaimed in keen alarm, "we've another invalid.

Turn him over!" But it was not Johnny who performed this service for the unfortunate minstrel.

It was Mr.Poynter.
"Hum!" said Philip dryly.