tory. I
come in in the middle of the reel, I guess."

They turned on her with the unlovely eagerness of those who have ugly
news to tell. They all spoke at once, in short sentences, their voices
high with the note of hysteria.

"Angie Hatton's beau was killed--"

"They say his aireoplane fell ten thousan' feet--"

"The news come only last evenin' about eight--"

"She won't see nobody but her pa--"

Eight! At eight Tessie had been standing outside Hatton's house envying
Angie and hating her. So that explained the people, and the automobiles,
and the excitement. Tessie was not receiving the news with the dramatic
reaction which its purveyors felt it deserved. Tessie, turning from one
to the other quietly, had said nothing. She was pitying Angie. Oh, the
luxury of it! Nap Ballou, coming in swiftly to still the unwonted
commotion in work hours, found Tessie the only one quietly occupied in
that chatter-filled room. She was smiling as she worked. Nap Ballou,
bending over her on some pretence that deceived no one, spoke low-voiced
in her ear. But she veiled her eyes insolently and did not glance up.
She hummed contentedly all the morning at her tedious work.

She had promised Nap Ballou to go picnicking with him Sunday. Down the
river, boating, with supper on shore. The small, still voice within her
had said: "Don't go! Don't go!" But the harsh, high-pitched, reckless
overtone said: "Go on! Have a good time. Take all you can get."

She would have to lie at home and she did it. Some fabrication about the
girls at the watch works did the trick. Fried chicken, chocolate cake.
She packed them deftly and daintily. High-heeled white kid shoes, flimsy
blouse, rustling skirt. Nap Ballou was waiting for her over in the city
park. She saw him before he espied her. He was leaning against a tree
idly, staring straight ahead with queer, lack-lustre eyes. Silhouetted
there against the tender green of the pretty square he looked very old,
somehow, and different--much older than he looked in his shop clothes,
issuing orders. Tessie noticed that he sagged where he should have stuck
out, and protruded where he should have been flat. There flashed across
her mind a vividly clear picture of Chuck as she had last seen him:
brown, fit, high of chest, flat of stomach, slim of flank.

Ballou saw her. He straightened and came toward her swiftly: "Somebody
looks mighty sweet this afternoon."

Tessie plumped the heavy lunch box into his arms