“’Deed I do,” says she.  “You didn’t want to try ’em at first.”

“Wasn’t I all kinds of a chump, though?” says he.  “And that first chicken pillau you made!  Say!

“You know,” says Warrie, turnin’ to Gladys, “it was Valentina who actually knocked out that rheumatism of mine.  Did it with Green Springs water and fresh limes.  Awful dose!  But inside of two weeks she had me rowing a boat.”

“Really!” says Gladys, smotherin’ a yawn.

“Don’t you believe him, Miz Prentice,” protests Valentina.  “It was just livin’ a month in Sand Spur.  That would cure anyone of anything.”

“Sand Spur!” echoes Gladys.  “It must be a wonderful place.”

Valentina and Warrie swaps grins.

“It’s a dozen shacks strung along two snaky wagon ruts through the sand,” says Valentina, “a few pines and live-oaks, a whole heap of razor-backs, and us Crackers dodgin’ between.  That’s Sand Spur.”

“Oh, a little more than that,” breaks in Warrie.  “You forget the roses and the yellow jasmine climbing over the shacks, the Spanish moss festooning the oaks, the mocking-birds singing from every tree-top, the black cypress behind the pines, and out front the jade-green Gulf where the sun goes down so glorious.  You forget the brilliant mornings and the wonderful soft moonlight nights.”

Well, that’s the way them two went on, like a couple of kids talkin’ over a summer vacation.  I gathered that Warrie had simply quit the sanatorium where he’d been played for a good thing, and settled down in Sand Spur with the Toziers; gettin’ fat on the weird dishes Valentina could cook, and havin’ the time of his life.  Seems as if he’d made friends with the whole population, for he had to ask about all of ’em by their front names.

Listenin’ to ’em was sort of interestin’ to me, but Miss Prentice don’t conceal the fact that she’s bored stiff.  Meanwhile we was wadin’ through a first-class feed.  And about nine o’clock Valentina announces that she’ll have to be gettin’ back to the schooner or pop’ll be worried.  Warrie says he’ll send her down in a cab, and asks me if I’ll go along to see that she gets there safe, which I says I will.  She was bein’ helped into the ulster when Warrie remembers someone else in Sand Spur.

“Oh, by the way,” says he; “what about Elmer?”

Valentina laughs easy.

“Oh, he’s the same Elmer,” says she.  “He’s still foreman out at the swamp.”

“Comes over every Sunday night as usual, eh?” asks Warrie.

She nods.  “Wednesdays now, too,” says she.

“Then,” says Warrie, “you and Elmer are to—­er—­”

“Ah reckon,” says Valentina.  “Sometime this spring.”

“Well, well!” says Warrie.  Then, as kind of an afterthought, he holds out his hand.  “My best wishes for you both,” says he.

“Thanks,” says Valentina, and gives him about half a smile.  Next she glances towards Gladys.  “Say,” she goes on, “is—­is she the one?”