. Will Ah fry yo' up a li'l chicken to
pack along? San'wiches ain't no eatin' fo' Sunday."

Fanny flung back her covers, swung around to the side of the bed, and
stood up, all, seemingly, in one sweeping movement. "Do you mean to tell
me he's in there, now?"

From the sitting room. "I think I ought to tell you I can hear
everything you're saying. Say. Fanny, those sketches of yours
are----Why, Gee Whiz! I didn't know you did that kind of thing. This one
here, with that girl's face in the crowd----"

"For heaven's sake!" Fanny demanded, "what are you doing here at
seven-thirty? And I don't allow people to look at those sketches. You
said eight-thirty."

"I was afraid you'd change your mind, or something. Besides, it's
now twenty-two minutes to eight. And will you tell the lady that's a
wonderful idea about the chicken? Only she'd better start now."

Goaded by time bulletins shouted through the closed door, Fanny found
herself tubbed, clothed, and ready for breakfast by eight-ten. When
she opened the door Clarence was standing in the center of her little
sitting room, waiting, a sheaf of loose sketches in his hand.

"Say, look here! These are the real thing. Why, they're great! They get
you. This old geezer with the beard, selling fish and looking like one
of the Disciples. And this. What the devil are you doing in a mail order
house, or whatever it is? Tell me that! When you can draw like this!"

"Good morning," said Fanny, calmly. "And I'll tell you nothing before
breakfast. The one thing that interests me this moment is hot coffee.
Will you have some breakfast? Oh, well, a second one won't hurt you.
You must have got up at three, or thereabouts." She went toward the tiny
kitchen. "Never mind, Princess. I'll wait on myself. You go on with that
chicken."

Princess was the kind of person who can fry a chicken, wrap it in
cool, crisp lettuce leaves, box it, cut sandwiches, and come out of the
process with an unruffled temper and an immaculate kitchen. Thanks to
her, Fanny and Heyl found themselves on the eight fifty-three train,
bound for the dunes.

Clarence swung his rucksack up to the bundle rack. He took off his cap,
and stuffed it into his pocket. He was grinning like a schoolboy. Fanny
turned from the window and smiled at what she saw in his face. At that
he gave an absurd little bounce in his place, like an overgrown child,
and reached over and patted her hand.

"I've dreamed of this for years."

"You'