Here a woman appeared at the door of the passageway that led to the kitchen. She was very wrinkled and care-worn in appearance, yet sprightly in her movements and manner. Many of her teeth were missing and her thin hair was strained back out of the way. She wore a large checked apron over her calico dress. "Hello, there, Aunt Maria," said Philip. "This is Miss Wilbur, one of the guests at Miss Burridge's." "Happy to meet you," said Aunt Maria, but casually, in the manner of one who has but slight time for trivial things like social amenities. Then she fixed Philip with a severe stare. "Is this the day you was expectin' the New York man?" "It is, Aunt Maria. Don't tell me you weren't sure and haven't plenty on hand for two man-sized appetites." "Well, I thought 'twas. I guess I can feed you." Aunt Maria's severity lapsed in a semi-toothless smile. "How's Priscilla Burridge gettin' along?" "Famously," replied Philip. "She's given me waffles every morning." "H'm!" grunted Aunt Maria. "I guess I can cook anything Priscilla Burridge can, give me the ingregiencies." "The principal ingredient is a waffle iron. I'll send for one for you." Diana had meanwhile been placed in a seat near her hostess, where she faced the line of cheerful red geraniums on the window-sill. "Your first visit to the island, Miss Wilbur?" asked the old lady. "Yes, Mrs. Dorking; but not the last, I assure you." "You like it, then?" "I think it is a fairy-tale place." "Miss Wilbur has been accustomed to a summer home where the hand of man has been very busy and the foot of man has trodden out nearly all of Nature's earmarks. She finds she likes the raw material better," said Philip, leaning against the mantelpiece where odd shells and quaint China objects, half-dog, half-dragon, stood as memorials to Captain Steve Dorking's cruises. The swords of two swordfishes, elaborately carved, leaned near him. "The island's filling up," said the old lady. "A lot of the summer people came yesterday and from now on they'll flock in." "Are you glad to see them come?" asked Diana. "Yes," returned Mrs. Dorking, a rising inflection in her kindly voice. "They're most of them good friends of mine." "I should say she is glad," remarked Philip. "She sits here in state and receives them all, don't you, Grammy?" "I don't know as there's much state about it." The old lady smiled, and leaned toward Diana. "Miss Wilbur, I guess you've found out already that Philip is the foolishest boy that ever lived. We can't afford to mind his talk, can we?" "But his singing, Mrs. Dorking," Diana looked up at Philip's tow head towering toward the low ceiling. "It doesn't greatly matter how he talks when he can sing as he does." "Yes," returned the old lady, again with the moderate rising inflection. "I will say Philip's got a real pretty voice." "And there is a piano!" said Diana, wistfully looking across the room at the ancient square instrument.