rag.  He plunged the streaked and sticky glasses into hot water, set them on a dripping grating to dry, turned on this faucet of sizzling soda, that of rich slow syrup, beat up the contents of glasses with his long-handled spoon, slipped them into tarnished nickelled frames, and slid them deftly before the waiting boys and girls.  Hot sauce over this ice cream, nuts on that, lady fingers and whipped cream with the tall slender cups of chocolate for the Baxter girls, crackers with the tomato bouillon old Lady Snow was noisily sipping; Reddy never made a mistake.

Presently he, with a swift motion, set a little plate of sweet crackers before the girls.  These were not ordinarily served with five-cent orders, and the three instantly divided them, concealing the little cakes in their hands, and handing the tell-tale plate back to the clerk.  A wise precaution it proved, for a moment later “old Bones,” as the proprietor of the establishment was nicknamed, sauntered through the store.  In a gale of giggles the girls went out, stealthily eating the crackers as they went.  This adventure was enough to put them in high spirits; Martie indeed was so easily fired to excitement that the crossing of wits with Dr. Ben, the personal word with Miss Fanny, and now Reddy’s gallantry, had brightened her colour and carried her elation to the point of effervescence.  Sparkling, chattering, flushed under her shabby summer hat, Martie sauntered between her friends straight to her golden hour.

Face to face they came with a tall, loosely built, well-dressed young man, with a straw hat on one side of his head.  Such a phenomenon was almost unknown in the streets of Monroe, and keenly conscious of his presence, and instantly curious as to his identity, the girls could not pass him without a provocative glance.  “Stunning!” said each girl in her heart.  “Who on earth—?”

Suddenly he blocked their way.

“Hello, Sally!  Hello, Martie!  Too proud to speak to old friends?”

“Why—­it’s Rodney Parker!” Martie said in her rich young voice.  “Hello, Rodney!”

All four shook hands and laughed joyously.  To Rodney the circumstance, at the opening of his dull return home, was welcome; to the girls, nothing short of delight.  He was so handsome, so friendly, and in the four years he had been at Stanford University and the summers he had spent in hunting expeditions or in eastern visits to his aunt in New York, he had changed only to improve!

Even in this first informal greeting it was Martie to whom he devoted his special attention.  Sally was usually considered the prettier of the two, but Martie was lovely to-night.  Rodney turned with them, and they walked to the bridge together.  Sally and Grace ahead.

The wind had fallen with the day, the air was mild and warm, and in the twilight even Monroe had its charm.  Flowers were blooming in many dooryards, yellow light streamed hospitably across the gravelled paths, and in the early darkness women were waiting in porches or by gates, and whirling hoses over the lawns were drawing all the dark, hidden perfumes into the damp night air.