"I'd like to read that book." Fancy was getting drowsy. "Tell me some
more."
"_Thine head upon thee is like Carmel..._"
"I'm glad we're getting into California at last."
"_And the hair of thine head like purple;--_"
She shook her head, "Oh, no, don't call it purple, please. Frank says
it's Romanesque."
"_Thy neck is as a tower of ivory._"
"That's the _second_ tower," said Fancy, closing her eyes, "I guess
that'll be about all for the towers. I think I'd rather have you make
it up as you go along. It's more complimentary." She laid her head upon
her arms on the table. "My ears are really something fierce, aren't
they?"
Cayley touched them in investigation. "They're a bit too small, of
course, and they're very pink, but they're like rosy sea-shells touched
by the dawn."
Fancy murmured softly: "'She sells sea-shells. She shells
sea-shells--She shells she shells'--say, I'm getting woozly."
She roused herself to laugh softly; her head drooped again.
"Then I'll let you kiss them--once!" she whispered.
"I'm afraid I talked too much last night," she said to him the next
evening. "I hope I didn't say anything, did if I didn't quite know what
I was doing. Funny how the red stuff throws you down!"
"Oh, no, you didn't give anything away. You're pretty safe, for a
woman."
"Coffee's what makes _me_ talk," she said, "if you ever want to make me
loosen up, try about four small blacks and I'll use up the dictionary."
He saw her nearly every day after that, but, even with the aid of
coffee, he was unsuccessful in his attempts to make her more
communicative. At the mention of Granthope's name she froze into
silence or changed the subject.
A few days after the dinner he invited her across the bay to Tiburon
where Sully Maxwell had given him the use of one of the dozen or more
house-boats anchored in the little harbor. Fancy was delighted at the
prospect of a day with him, and early on Sunday morning she was ready at
the ferry. As she waited with her basket of provisions, saucily and
picturesquely dressed in a cheap outing costume of linen, Dougal and
Elsie came up to her.
"Hello, Queen," Dougal cried, and he shook both her hands heartily, his
round gargoyle face illuminated with cordiality. "Where have you been
all this time? We'll have to try you for desertion. You haven't
abdicated, have you? We've been wanting to find you and have you go up
to Piedra Pinta with us. The bunch is all up there now; Elsie and I
were only just able to get off. Can't you come along with us?"
"Oh, do!" Elsie pleaded, putting her arm about Fancy's slender waist.
"No, I'm sorry, but I can't, really; I'm going to Tiburon with Blanchard
Cayley."
Dougal's face clouded. "Say, what do you want to run with that lobster
for? You're altogether too good for him."
"I guess I'm in love with him," said Fancy, still holding Dougal's hand
and looking up into his face with a quaint expression.
"You _aren't_!" they chorused.
"Oh, I am, I am; I'm sure I am!" she repeated insistently. "I've liked
him ever since the first time I saw him. What's the use of pretending?
Don't say anything against him, please. I'm so happy--I'm _perfectly_
happy, Dougal." The tears came to her eyes.
"I know what'll happen," Dougal said, his pale eyebrows drawn together.
"He'll play with you for a while, and then he'll throw you down hard as
soon as he's through with you, or another girl comes along."
"Then I hope she won't show up for a good while," said Fancy cavalierly.
"And when it's over?" said Elsie.
Fancy dropped her eyes. "When it's over--I don't know." She looked up.
"When it's over I suppose I'll sell apples on Market Street. What else
will there be for me to do?"
"Oh, don't; you frighten me," Elsie cried; "we're all so fond of you,
Fancy. Remember, we're your friends, and we'd do anything to help you."
Fancy stooped down and kissed her. "Don't worry. Elsie, I'm pretty
lively yet. Only you know I don't do things by halves. I suppose I
take it rather seriously."