humming, to let her know that he did not care
what she thought about him. When he turned around she had vanished and a
few minutes after he saw her with her suit over her arm on the way to
the bath-house on the exclusive beach in front of The Colonial.

CHAPTER III

"PINKEY"

The train upon which Will Smith was expected was not due until
twelve-thirty, so, since he could not go swimming and still felt
rebellious over being forbidden, Wallie went upstairs to put the
finishing touches on a lemonade tray of japanned tin which he had
painted and intended presenting to Mr. Cone.

The design was his own, and very excellent it seemed to Wallie as he
stopped at intervals and held it from him. On a moss-green background of
rolling clouds a most artistic cluster of old-fashioned cabbage roses
was tossed carelessly, with a brown slug on a leaf as a touch of
realism.

The gods have a way of apportioning their gifts unevenly, for not only
did Wallie paint but he wrote poetry--free verse mostly; free chiefly in
the sense that his contributions to the smaller magazines were,
perforce, gratuitous. Also he sang--if not divinely, at least so
acceptably that his services were constantly asked for charity concerts.

In addition to these he had manlier accomplishments, playing good games
of tennis, golf, and shuffle-board. Besides, Mr. Appel was his only
dangerous opponent on the bowling alley, and he had learned to ride at
the riding academy.

Now, as he worked, he speculated as to whether he had imagined it or
"the girl from Wyoming" really had laughed at him. He could not dismiss
her from his mind and the incident rankled. He told himself that she had
not been there long enough to appreciate him; she knew nothing of his
talents or of his popularity. She would learn that to be singled out by
him for special attention meant something, and he did not consider
himself a conceited man either.

Yet Wallie continued to tingle each time that he thought of the laughter
in her eyes--actual derision he feared it was. Then he had an idea, a
very clever one it seemed to him. By this time she would have returned
from bathing and he would go down and exhibit the cabbage roses. They
would be praised and she would hear it. It was nearly time for Will
Smith to arrive, and he had to stop painting, anyhow.

Bearing the lemonade tray carefully in order not to smudge it, Wallie
stepped out of the elevator and stood in the wide doorway, agr