SUN DRIED
"Holy Cats!" exclaimed a man's voice. "What is this, anyway? A Coney Island concession gone wrong?"
Mary Louise's eyes unclosed in a flash, and Mary Louise gazed upon an irate-looking, youngish man, who wore shabby slippers, and no collar with a full dress air.
"I presume that you are the janitor's beautiful daughter," growled the collarless man.
"Well, not precisely," answered Mary Louise, sweetly. "Are you the scrub-lady's stalwart son?"
"Ha!" exploded the man. "But then, all women look alike with their hair down. I ask your pardon, though."
"Not at all," replied Mary Louise. "For that matter, all men look like picked chickens with their collars off."
At that the collarless man, who until now had been standing on the top step that led up to the roof, came slowly forward, stepped languidly over a skylight or two, draped his handkerchief over a convenient chimney and sat down, hugging his long, lean legs to him.
"Nice up here, isn't it?" he remarked.
"It was," said Mary Louise.
[201]
