sight and sound of all those new, soft, yellow
things that waddled closely behind the wagging tails of their mothers,
and it gave her a sort of sweet comfort to go down on her knees and
hold one of these frightened babies against her cheek.

Crying out, "Oo-oo, Tootles," from halfway down the cinder path, Irene,
stimulated by the aroma of hot coffee and toast, and eggs and bacon,
returned to the living room and fell to humming, "You're here and I'm
here."

Tootles joined her immediately, a very different looking little person
from the tired-eyed, yawning girl of the city rabbit warren. Health was
in her eyes and a little smile at the corners of her mouth. Quick work
was made of the meal to the intermittent duck talk of Mrs. Burrell who
came in and out of the kitchen through a creaking door,--a normal,
noisy soul, to whom life was a succession of laborious days spent
between the cooking stove and the washtub with a regular Saturday
night, in her best clothes, at the motion-picture theater at Sag Harbor
to gape at the abnormality of Theda Bara and scream with uncontrolled
mirth at the ingenious antics of Charlie Chaplin. An ancient Ford made
possible this weekly dip into these intense excitements.

And then the two girls left the living room with its inevitable rocking
chairs and framed texts and old heating stove with a funnel through the
wall and went out into the sun.

"Well, dearie," said Irene, sitting on the edge of the stoop, within
sound of the squeaking of a many-armed clothes drier, teased by a nice
sailing wind. "Us for the yawl to-day."

"You for the yawl," said Tootles. "I'm staying here to help old man
Burrell. It's his busy day."

Irene looked up quickly. "What's the idea?"

"Just that,--and something else. I don't want to see Martin till this
evening. I moved things last night, and I want him to miss me a bit."

"Ah," said Irene. "I guessed it meant something when you made that
quick exit when we moved up. Have you got him, dearie?"

Tootles shot out a queer little sigh and nodded.

"That's fine. He's not like the others, is he? But you've played him
great. Oh, I've seen it all, never you fear. Subtle, old dear, very
subtle. Shouldn't have had the patience myself. Go in and win. He's
worth it." Tootles put her hands over her face and a great sob shook
her.

In an instant, Irene had her in her arms. "Dear old Tootles," she said,
"it means an awful lot to you, don't it? Don't give way, girlie. Y