the Committee."

When Janet reached Faber Street she halted on the corner of Stanley to
stare into the window of the glorified drugstore. But she gave no heed
to the stationery, the cameras and candy displayed there, being in the
emotional state that reduces to unreality objects of the commonplace,
everyday world. Presently, however, she became aware of a man standing
beside her.

"Haven't we met before?" he asked. "Or--can I be mistaken?"

Some oddly familiar quizzical note in his voice stirred, as she turned
to him, a lapsed memory. The hawklike yet benevolent and illuminating
look he gave her recalled the man at Silliston whom she had thought a
carpenter though he was dressed now in a warm suit of gray wool, and
wore a white, low collar.

"In Silliston!" she exclaimed. "Why--what are you doing here?"

"Well--this instant I was just looking at those notepapers, wondering
which I should choose if I really had good taste. But it's very
puzzling--isn't it?--when one comes from the country. Now that saffron
with the rough edges is very--artistic. Don't you think so?"

She looked at him and smiled, though his face was serious.

"You don't really like it, yourself," she informed him.

"Now you're reflecting on my taste," he declared.

"Oh no--it's because I saw the fence you were making. Is it finished
yet?"

"I put the last pineapple in place the day before Christmas. Do you
remember the pineapples?"

She nodded. "And the house? and the garden?"

"Oh, those will never be finished. I shouldn't have anything more to
do."

"Is that--all you do?" she asked.

"It's more important than anything else. But you have you been back to
Silliston since I saw you? I've been waiting for another call."

"You haven't even thought of me since," she was moved to reply in the
same spirit.

"Haven't I?" he exclaimed. "I wondered, when I came up here to Hampton,
whether I mightn't meet you--and here you are! Doesn't that prove it?"

She laughed, somewhat surprised at the ease with which he had diverted
her, drawn her out of the tense, emotional mood in which he had
discovered her. As before, he puzzled her, but the absence of any
flirtatious suggestion in his talk gave her confidence. He was just
friendly.

"Sometimes I hoped I might see you in Hampton," she ventured.

"Well, here I am. I heard the explosion, and came."

"The explosion! The strike!" she exclaimed; suddenly enlightened. "Now I
remember! You said someth