"Say, my dear," he said, while clapping his hands manfully, "you have Barrison sing that at Pittsfield, and I'll come to your party and make love to you the rest of the night." Philip smiled and nodded, and drifted away from the piano, while Barney got up and stretched his legs. "Where's Diana?" exclaimed her father, and instantly condemned himself for drawing attention to her departure. "Oh, but she heard it, I'm sure," said Mrs. Wilbur apologetically, still wiping her eyes. "I'm sure no one appreciates your singing more than Diana." "Gone to look after her moon, probably," said Philip. "You know a goddess has her duties." "There have been things going on," thought Charles Wilbur, with ever-deepening conviction. "Mr. Kelly, you are a wizard," he said, shaking Barney by the hand while Mrs. Lowell and Veronica were thanking Philip. "You have both been so good to us," said Mrs. Wilbur warmly. "Why, Diana, where have you been? We missed you," she added, as the girl came into the room. "I wanted to see if the steward understood," she replied. "I think, if we go on deck now, we shall have something else refreshing after this delightful feast." Her father watched the girl approach Barney. "Mr. Kelly, you are wonderful. I remember the comical things you said about your insignificance at recitals. I've seen again how apocryphal those statements are." Her father continued to watch for her thanks to Philip. Apparently there were none forthcoming, and fortunately Mrs. Wilbur was too busy talking to him herself to notice it. "But won't Mr. Kelly play something before we leave?" she said supplicatingly. "Oh, no, my dear lady," returned Barney lightly. "One has no appetite for dinner after dessert." They went on deck, and the moon was glorifying the still cove. Apparently the motor boats had sated their curiosity as to the yacht, and all was peaceful. The company sat about in a social group and ate and drank. Barney Kelly told some amusing experiences which he and Philip had had on the road last season. Diana scarcely heard his anecdotes, but she laughed with the rest. "Without to-morrow, without yesterday." The words sang themselves over and over in her heart, and her cheeks still burned. The minutes were flying, flying, and Philip was sitting near her mother, who waited on him assiduously and rallied him upon his lack of appetite. "Say, boy," said Kelly at last, "do you know we have a cart-load of music to look over and we ought to do it to-night?" Then they would go. She would not see him alone again! "Mrs. Lowell, are you ready?" asked Philip. "We four will have a grand moonlight walk up to the Inn." "No, indeed," replied that lady. "The faithful Bill is expecting us. I know how busy you and Mr. Kelly must be."