erest and presently were plunged in a conversation about
home.

Jimmy forgot that Judy, his sponsor at Wellington, sat at his right hand
and Molly was oblivious to Lawrence Upton on her left.

"I suppose you never get any corn bread here?" Jimmy asked.

"Not our kind," replied Molly. "What they have here is made of fine meal
with sugar in it."

Jimmy made a wry face.

"Wouldn't you like to have some fried chicken with cream gravy?" he
whispered.

"And some candied sweet potatoes and corn pones and pear pickle," Molly
broke in.

"And hot biscuits. But what shall we finish off with, Miss Brown?"

"Brandied peaches and ice cream and hickory-nut cake."

Jimmy gave a delighted laugh.

"That's a good old home dessert I used to get at Grandma's," he said.
"At least the peaches and the ice cream were. She always had cup-cake
with frosted icing."

"Do you ever have kidney hash and waffles Sunday mornings, nowadays?"
asked Molly.

"I haven't had any for years, Miss Brown. But at the restaurant where I
get breakfast I do get 'batty' cakes and molasses."

"'Batty' cakes," repeated Molly. "How funny that is. Do you know I've
always said that, too, just because I learned to say it that way as a
child. And hook and 'laddy' wagon. I can't seem to break myself of the
habit."

"Don't try," said Jimmy. "I'd rather hear the good old talk than
Bernhardt speaking French."

And so from food they came to discuss pronunciation, as most Southerners
do sooner or later, and from that subject they drifted into mutual
friendships and thence naturally into newspaper work.

"I'm a sub-editor," announced Molly proudly, and she told him about the
_Commune_ and her work. "Perhaps you'd like to see our office after a
while?" she said.

"I'd be only too glad," said Jimmy, delighted to be able to prolong his
tete-a-tete with this gracefully angular young woman with blue eyes and
red hair, who spoke with the "tongue of angels" and had the same
yearnings he did for corn-bread and fried chicken with cream gravy.

And all this time something strange was taking place in Judy's mind that
she could not understand. At first she thought she was catching the
grippe. She felt cold and then hot and finally unreasonably irritated
against everybody except Molly. At least, she put it that way to
herself.

"She never looked more charming," thought Judy to herself.

Molly in her faded blue corduroy skirt and blue silk blouse was a
picture to char