it annoys her. Donna has not the slightest doubt but that this young
fellow will come rushing in to the eating-house some day, discover her
when he comes to pay his check, and eventually return and keep on
returning until that final happy day when they shall go away together,
to walk hand in hand through green fields and listen to the birds and
bees, to linger under the shade of green trees, to wander in an
Elysium. She does not know what green fields and running water look
like, but she has read about them--

The director's whistle is heard in the wings; the play is on at last!

As Donna thrust the last hatpin through her glorious hair and turned to
leave the place of her employment, her glance rested upon Mr. Harley P.
Hennage, covertly watching her over the edge of his soup spoon. She
removed her glove, walked around the end of the lunch counter and held
out her hand.

"Well, Mr. Hennage. This _is_ a delightful surprise. I'm _so_
glad to see you back in San Pasqual. Where have you been these past
three years?"

Harley P. scrambled down from his high stool, took her cool hand and
blushed.

"I wouldn't like to tell you," he said, "but I've been in some mighty-
y-y funn-y-y places, where I didn't meet no beautiful young ladies like
you, Miss Donnie. I ain't much of a man at handin' out compliments--I
never was one o' the presumin' kind--but you sure do put San Pasqual on
the map. Miss Donnie, you do, for a fact."