d with the strawberry ice cream--if
you want strawberry?" He looked so young and cool and fresh.

"Blueberry," repeated Nick sternly, and looked her in the eye. The old
waitress laughed a little and was surprised to find herself laughing.
"'S for you to say." She brought him the monstrous mixture, and he
devoured it to the last chromatic crumb.

"Nothing the matter with that," he remarked as she passed, dish-laden.

She laughed again tolerantly, almost tenderly. "Good thing you're
young." Her busy glance lingered a brief moment on his face. He
sauntered out.

Now he took the path to the right of the shelter, crossed the road,
struck the path again, came to a rustic bridge that humped high in the
middle, spanning a cool green stream, willow-bordered. The cool green
stream was an emerald chain that threaded its way in a complete circlet
about the sylvan spot known as Wooded Island, relic of World's Fair
days.

The little island lay, like a thing under enchantment, silent, fragrant,
golden, green, exquisite. Squirrels and blackbirds, rabbits and pigeons
mingled in AEsopian accord. The air was warm and still, held by the
encircling trees and shrubbery. There was not a soul to be seen. At the
far north end the two Japanese model houses, survivors of the
exposition, gleamed white among the trees.

Nick stood a moment. His eyelids closed, languorously. He stretched his
arms out and up deliciously, bringing his stomach in and his chest out.
He took off his cap and stuffed it into his pocket. He strolled across
the thick cool nap of the grass, deserting the pebble path. At the west
edge of the island a sign said: "No One Allowed in the Shrubbery."
Ignoring it, Nick parted the branches, stopped and crept, reached the
bank that sloped down to the cool green stream, took off his coat, and
lay relaxed upon the ground. Above him the tree branches made a pattern
against the sky. Little ripples lipped the shore. Scampering
velvet-footed things, feathered things, winged things made pleasant stir
among the leaves. Nick slept.

He awoke in half an hour refreshed. He lay there, thinking of nothing--a
charming gift. He found a stray peanut in his pocket and fed it to a
friendly squirrel. His hand encountered the cool metal of his harmonica.
He drew out the instrument, placed his coat, folded, under his head,
crossed his knees, one leg swinging idly, and began to play rapturously.
He was perfectly happy. He played Gimme Love, whose j