feverish all the rest of my life, because I get some swell ideas."
"Like what, for instance?"
"Like the one I just got."
"What one?"
"That we should be cheerful."
"Oh."
He laughed again. "Come on, Lil, brighten up a little bit."
"I'm all right," she said irritably.
"No, you're not. You got a face a mile long."
"Well, I'm warm."
"So am I, but I'm not crying about it, am I?"
"Come on, we'd better go to sleep before I start to get mad."
"At what?"
"At you. For God's sake, it's too hot to be nagged about being cheerful. Cheerfulness is something you don't get from somebody nagging you into smiling. You're as silly as those God-damned greeting-cards that come to you about dear mother, blue skies, loving friends, and kind words."
"What's the matter with you, Lil?"
"I'm warm!" she shouted.
"Well, I'm sick and I'm trying to be cheerful."
"Keep smiling, little blue bird. Though skies are gray, be bright, for they will soon be much grayer."
"Gee, you're a fine one."
"Oh, Hubert, I'm sorry. Honest I am, but I'm so warm and uncomfortable and blue."
He looked at her in surprise. "Blue? What are you
