"Do I look statuesque, Mamma?" Diana smiled, but not pensively. Her eyes were alive with anticipation of this one more, this last evening. "To-day I have been remembering my first days at the island, all alone with Miss Burridge, the long, cold evenings with their wonderful coloring, the vesper songs of the hardy robins and sparrows; the grinding pebbles swept back and forth on the beach; the entrancing odors that one cannot name, so mingled of balsam and sea--the great spaces of earth and sky--" Something seemed to stop the rush of reminiscence. Mrs. Wilbur regarded her child's kindling face with fond admiration. "Yes," she returned, laughing softly, "I know how all that captured you, but what has it to do with your being statuesque?" "Oh,"--Diana seemed to come to herself with a little start,--"Miss Burridge used to say sometimes that I looked like a statue," she returned, rather lamely. Motor boats were constantly putt-putt-ing around the yacht. "I'm glad," said Mrs. Wilbur, looking down upon them now, "that this is the last night we are to stay here. Didn't those inquisitive little things keep you awake all last night, just like gnats?" "I didn't sleep much," admitted Diana. "There they come," said Mrs. Wilbur, suddenly, looking across at the float. Two men in white flannels were stepping aboard the waiting boat whose brasses flashed in the light of the lowering sun. Diana's heart bounded toward her throat. "Well, I shall make him understand that he must tell me just as soon as he knows himself," said Mrs. Wilbur rather fretfully, watching the approach. The dinner party was a gay one. When the guests were seated at table, they looked out through a wide semicircle of glass at the familiar sights of the cove--its wooded shore, and the silhouettes of great waves far out against the horizon. "I shall not forgive Kelly for giving me away," said Philip when his host congratulated him on his call to New York. "How shall I feel when you all hear that I didn't pass muster?" "Believe me," said Barney feelingly, "if that proves to be the case, you'll all have cause to congratulate him. The life of an American singer in a Grand Opera Company is one fight, if it isn't an inferno. The call-boy forgets to call him, the prompter forgets to prompt him. Every curtain-call is begrudged him." "I'm glad you're husky, Barrison," remarked Mr. Wilbur. "Yes," laughed Philip. "Kelly has been an industrious crêpe-hanger ever since the letter arrived. At the same time he shoves me on." "Oh, certainly," said Barney, setting his lips energetically. "Must be done. I think he's safe to win." "I am thinking about October and Pittsfield," said Mrs. Wilbur ruefully. Philip turned toward her. "I think there is little doubt that I shall be with you," he answered. "Mamma doesn't mean that," declared Diana of the steadily burning cheeks. "She wants you to succeed, of course."