As soon as dinner was over she went into the kitchen and devoted herself to compiling a tray—not a tray merely of halfcooled dinner things, but a specially prepared “nice” tray, suitable for tempting any one. Sheila decided to do a little laundry one day, clothes that were in Lucy’s hamper, a dirty clothes bin that Lucy had insisted that she have for herself separate from the family one. But he could only utter an inarticulate exclamation. “So how about this Friday?” He asked. “Do you mean to say that you have been here ever since I came?” “I am afraid that I must confess it,” he answered. My will never faltered. He was a fool.
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