diary?"

"Think of your rememberin' that, Dammy! Yes, always."

"That's what Frisco's readin' up in. He's smart. Used to do im'tations
of actors and cry like a hose pipe. Spotted that. Where's the
strawb'ry jam?"

"Right here, Dammy. Dammy, suppose he killed Papa somewheres off and
stole his diaries!"

"Well," said Adam, beginning strawberry jam, "I thought of that. Mebbe
he did. I'd better find out. Y'oughtn't to kill folks even if they're
no good for nothin'."

"I'll go down to the barn and wake some of the boys up," Mrs. Egg
hissed.

"You won't neither, Mamma. This'd be a joke on you. I ain't goin' to
have folks sayin' you took this guy for your father. Fewer knows it,
the better. This is awful good jam." He grinned and pulled Mrs. Egg
down beside him on the chest. She forgot to be frightened, watching
the marvel eat. She must get larger jars for jam. He reflected: "You
always get enough to eat on a boat, but it ain't satisfyin'. Frisco
prob'ly uses walnut juice to paint his face with. It don't wash off.
Don't talkin' make a person thirsty?"

"Wait till I get you some more cider, Dammy."

Adam thoughtfully drank more pear cider and made a cigarette.
Wonderful ideas must be moving behind the blank brown of his forehead.
His mother adored him and planned a recital of his acts to Egg, who
had accused Adam of being slow witted.

She wanted to justify herself, and muttered: "I just felt he wasn't
Papa all along. He was like one of those awful sorrowful persons in a
movie."

"Sure," said Adam, patting her arm. "I wish Edie'd got as nice a
complexion as you, Mamma."

"Mercy, Dammy!" his mother tittered and blushed.

Adam finished a third mug of cider and got up to examine the shelves.
He scratched the rear of one calf with the other toe, and muscles
cavorted in both legs as he reached for a jar of grapefruit marmalade.
He peered through this at the lamp and put the jar back. Mrs. Egg felt
hurt.

The paragon explained: "Too sour after strawb'ry, Mamma. I'd like some
for breakfast, though. Back in a minute."

He trotted out through the kitchen and vanished on the veranda. She
shivered, being alone.

Adam came back and nodded: "Light's out. Any key to that room?"

"No."

"I can always think better when I'm eatin'," he confessed, and lifted
down the plate of spiced cookies, rejected them as too fresh, and
pounced on a covered dish of apple sauce.

This he absorbed in stillness, wriggling his toes on t