mmy and his mother in charge. O-liver lived in the hotel
in a suite of small rooms, and when Atwood Jones passed that way the
four men dined together as O-liver's guests.

"Some day we'll eat with you in Washington," was Atwood's continued
prophecy.

They always drank "To Jane." Now and then Atwood brought news of her.
First from the college, and then as the years passed from the beach
resort where she had opened a tea room. She was more beautiful than
ever, more wonderful. Her tea room and shop were most exclusive and
artistic.

"Sandwich Jane!" said O-liver. "How long ago it seems!"

It was five years now and he had not seen her. And next month he was to
go to Washington. Not as President, but representing his district in
Congress. Tommy's hotel had outgrown the original modest building and
was now modern and fireproof. Henry was married, he had had several new
cars, and his wife wore sables and seal.

The old arcade was no more; nor the old post-office. But O-liver still
talked to admiring circles in the hotel lobby or to greater crowds in
the town hall.

He still would take no money from his father, but he saw much of him,
for Mrs. Lee was dead. The Tudor house was without a mistress. It seemed
a pity that O-liver had no wife to grace its halls.

The newspapers stated that Fluffy Hair's income had doubled. Whether
this was true or not it sounded well, and Fluffy Hair still seemed young
on the screen. Jane would go now and then and look at her and wonder
what sort of woman this was who had laughed at O-liver.

Then one day a telegram came to O-liver in his suite of rooms. And that
day and for two nights he rode Mary Pick over the hills and through the
canon and down to the sea, and came to a place where Jane's tea room was
met in the center of a Japanese garden--a low lovely building, with its
porches open to the wide Pacific.

He had not seen her for so long that he was not quite prepared for the
change. She was thinner and paler and more beautiful, with an air of
distinction that was new. It was as if in visualizing his future she had
pictured herself in it--as first lady of the land. Such a silly dream
for Sandwich Jane!

They were quite alone when he came to her. It was morning, and the
porches were empty of guests. Jane was in a long wicker chair, with her
pot of coffee on an hour-glass table. Far down on the terrace two Jap
gardeners clipped and cut and watered and saw nothing.

"You are younger t