going to have one!" He thought of her hands helping another's hands; he thought next of her hands helping his in preparation of their camp supper.
When luncheon was over, she asked him: "Now what are we going to do?"
He had been wondering when she would think of that. He said "I should have ordered theater tickets before we sat down. But we can get something yet."
"Do you want to?"
"No."
She said: "I never did. Do you have to take your bundle somewhere?"
He explained: "I was taking it here. It's a dress of my mother's. She won't buy things for herself. My father's a minister, you know."
Fidelia nodded.
"My mother mostly wears worn clothes—I mean clothes which other people have worn," Dave proceeded and flushed hot.
"Yes," said Fidelia. "I've lived in little towns."
"I'm going to get," said Dave, "the best clothes for her that are in Marshall Field's!"
Fidelia arose. "You're exchanging that?" She referred to his bundle.
"No; that's a sample for size. It's a dress some one gave her and she'd made over."
"Give it to me," Fidelia asked. "I'll look it over in the women's room for size." And she took his bundle away, to reappear with it a few minutes later.
"She must be tall like you, David," Fidelia said.
"She is."
