k their chairs and strolled down the aisle between the
tables. She smiled brightly to her right and left.

"Good morning, Mrs. Blondheim. Is it warm enough for you?"

"Good morning," replied Mrs. Blondheim, stabbing a bit of omelet with
vindictive fork.

Mrs. Epstein looked after the pair with warming eyes. "She is a stylish
dresser, ain't she?"

"I wish you'd see the white linen my Bella's got. It's got sixteen yards
of Cluny lace in the waist alone--and such Cluny, too! I paid a dollar
and a half a yard wholesale."

"Just look at this waist I'm wearin', Mrs. Blondheim. You wouldn't think
I paid three and a half for the lace, would you?"

"Oh yes; I can always tell good stuff when I see it, and I always say it
pays best in the end," said Mrs. Blondheim, feeling the heavy lace edge
of Mrs. Epstein's sleeve between discriminating thumb and forefinger.

Suddenly Mrs. Epstein's eyes widened; she rose to her feet, drawing a
corner of the table-cloth awry. "If it ain't my Louie!"

Mr. Louis Epstein, a faithful replica of his mother, with close black
hair that curled on his head like the nap of a Persian lamb, imprinted a
large, moist kiss upon the maternal lips.

"Hello, maw! Didn't you expect me?"

"Not till the ten-o'clock train, Louie. How's papa?"

"He'th fine. I left him billing thom goods to Thpokane."

"How's business, Louie?"

"Not tho bad, but pa can't get away yet for a week. The fall goods ain't
all out yet."

"Ain't it awful, the way that man is all for business, Mrs. Blondheim?
This is my son Louie."

"Well, well, Mr. Epstein. I've heard a lot about you. I want you to meet
my daughter Bella. You ought to make friends."

"Yeth'm," said Mr. Epstein.

* * * * *

Out on the clean-washed beach the sun glinted on the water and sent
points of light dancing on the wavelets like bits of glass. Children
in blue rompers burrowed and jangled their painted spades and pails;
nursemaids planted umbrellas in the sand and watched their charges romp;
parasols flashed past like gay-colored meteors.

In the white-capped surf bathers bobbed and shouted, and all along the
shore-line the tide ran gently up the beach and down again, leaving a
smooth, damp stretch of sand which soughed and sucked beneath the steps
of the bathers.

Far out, where the waters were highest and the whitecaps maddest, Mr.
Arnheim held Miss Sternberger about her slim waist and raised her high
over each r