that I must look rather civilized for a motorist.

"You don't look as you'd care for eggs," she said.

"That's where you're wrong," I retorted. "I want three of the biggest,
yellowest, roundest poached eggs your fattest hen ever laid--and a
schooner of milk."

The girl vanished into the back of the shop and presently I could smell
toast. I discovered I was extremely hungry. In about eight minutes she
came back with a tray on which was a large glass of creamy milk and the
triple eggs for which I had prayed. They were spherical, white and
wabbly.

"You're a prize poacher," I remarked, my spirits reviving.

She smiled appreciatively.

"Going far?" she inquired, sitting down quite at ease at one of the
neighboring tables.

I looked pensively at her pleasant face across the eggs.

"That's a question," I answered. "I can't make out whether I've been
moving on or just going round and round in a circle."

She looked puzzled for an instant. Then she said shrewdly:

"Perhaps you've really been _going back_."

"Perhaps," I admitted.

I have never tasted anything quite so good as those eggs and that milk.
From where I sat I could look far up the Hudson; the wind from the river
swayed the red maples round the door of the quick lunch; and from the
kitchen came the homely smells of my lost youth. I had a fleeting vision
of the party at my house, now playing bridge for ten cents a point; and
my soul lifted its head for the first time in weeks.

"How far is it to Pleasantdale?"

"A long way," answered the girl; "but you can make a connection by
trolley that will get you there in about two hours."

"Suits me!" I said and stepped to the door. "You can go, James; I'll get
myself home."

He cast on me a scandalized look.

"Very good, sir!" he answered and touched his cap.

He must have thought me either a raving lunatic or an unabashed
adventurer. A moment more and the car disappeared in the direction of
the city. I was free! The girl made no attempt to conceal her amusement.

Behind the door was a gray felt hat. I took it down and looked at the
size. It was within a quarter of my own.

"Look here," I suggested, holding out a five-dollar bill, "I want a
Wishing Cap. Let me take this, will you?"

"The house is yours!" she laughed.

Over on the candy counter was a tray of corncob pipes. I helped myself
to one, to a package of tobacco and a box of matches. I hung my derby on
the vacant peg behind the door. Then I tu