out of her
grasp, out of her sight. She had no fear of what might come to him in
France. Bullets and bayonets would never hurt Chuck. He'd make it,
just as he always made the 7:50 when it seemed as if he was going to
miss it sure. He'd make it there and back, all right. But he'd be a
different Chuck, while she stayed the same Tessie. Books, travel,
French, girls, swell folks----

And all the while she was smiling and dimpling and trailing her hand in
the water. "Bet you can't guess what I got in that lunch box."

"Chocolate cake."

"Well, of course I've got chocolate cake. I baked it myself this
morning."

"Yes, you did!" "Why, Chuck Mory, I did so! I guess you think I can't
do anything, the way you talk."

"Oh, don't I! I guess you know what I think."

"Well, it isn't the cake I mean. It's something else."

"Fried chicken!"

"Oh, now you've gone and guessed it." She pouted prettily.

"You asked me to, didn't you?"

Then they laughed together, as at something exquisitely witty. Down the
river, drifting, rowing. Tessie pointed to a house half hidden among
the trees on the farther shore: "There's Hatton's camp. They say they
have grand times there with their swell crowd some Saturdays and
Sundays. If I had a house like that, I'd live in it all the time, not
just a couple of days out of the whole year." She hesitated a moment.
"I suppose it looks like a shanty to you now."

Chuck surveyed it, patronizingly. "No, it's a nice little place."

They beached their boat, and built a little fire, and had supper on the
riverbank, and Tessie picked out the choice bits for him--the breast of
the chicken, beautifully golden brown; the ripest tomato; the firmest,
juiciest pickle; the corner of the little cake which would give him a
double share of icing.

From Chuck, between mouthfuls: "I guess you don't know how good this
tastes. Camp grub's all right, but after you've had a few months of it
you get so you don't believe there IS such a thing as real fried
chicken and homemade chocolate cake."

"I'm glad you like it, Chuck. Here, take this drumstick. You ain't
eating a thing!" His fourth piece of chicken.

Down the river as far as the danger line just above the dam, with
Tessie pretending fear just for the joy of having Chuck reassure her.
Then back again in the dusk, Chuck bending to the task now against the
current. And so up the hill, homeward bound. They walked very slowly,
Chuck's ha