incidental to unwinding a hullabaloo in proper costume, he had
purchased one from a--er--distinguished gentleman who for singular and
very private reasons had no further use for it. And though the
negotiations, for reasons unnamable, had had to be conducted with
infinite discretion through an unknown third person, he had eventually
found himself the possessor of the hullabaloo, to his great delight.
He had hullabalooed his way along the coast in the wake of a nomadic
friend, but deeming it wise to await the dispersal of frost strangely
engendered by a Regent's Hymn, had discreetly kept his distance and
proved his benevolence, in the manner of his distinguished predecessor,
by playing to all the nice old ladies in the dooryards. . . . And one
of them had given him a piece of pie and a bottle of excellent coffee
and fretted a bit about the way he was wasting his life. Mr. Poynter
added that in the fashion of certain young darkies who infest the
Southern roads, he would willingly stand on his head for a baked potato
in lieu of a nickel, being very hungry.

"You probably mean by that, that you're going to stay to supper!" said
Diane.

Mr. Poynter meant just that.

"Where," demanded Diane, "is the hay-camp?"

"Well," said Philip, "Ras is a hay-bride-groom. He dreamt he was
married and it made such a profound impression upon him that he went
and married somebody. He slept through his wooing and he slept through
his wedding and I gave him the hay and the cart and Dick Whittington.
I don't think he entirely appreciated Dick either, for he blinked some.
All of which primarily engendered the music-machine inspiration. It's
really a very comfortable way of traveling about and the wagon was
fastidiously fitted up by my distinguished predecessor. The seat's
padded and plenty broad enough to sleep on."

Mr. Poynter presently departed to the music-machine for a peace
offering in the shape of a bow and some arrows upon which, he said,
he'd been working for days. When he returned, laden with luxurious
contributions to the evening meal, the camp had still another guest.
Keela was sitting by the fire. Philip eyed with furtive approval the
modish shirtwaist, turned back at the full brown throat, and the
heavily coiled hair.

"The Seminole rig," explained Diane, "was an excellent drawing card for
Palm Beach tourists but it was a bit conspicuous for the road. Greet
him in Seminole, Keela."

"Som-mus-ka-lar-nee-sha-maw-lin!