"For the land's sakes, Magnolia Hawks, you sitting out there yet! Here it's after three and nearly dinner time!" Elly Chipley at the screen door. "And in the blazing sun, too. You need somebody to look after you worse than your ma did."
Elly was justified, for Magnolia had a headache that night.
Kim and Ken arrived unexpectedly together on June second, clattering up to the boat landing in a scarecrow Ford driven by a stout Negro in khaki pants, puttees, and an army shirt.
Kim was breathless, but exhilarated. "He says he drove in France in '17, and I believe it. Good God! Every bolt, screw, bar, nut, curtain, and door in the thing rattled and flapped and opened and fell in and fell out. I've been working like a Swiss bell-ringer trying to keep things together there in the back seat. Nola darling, what do you mean by staying down in this miserable hole all these weeks! Ken, dear, take another aspirin and a pinch of bicarb and lie down a minute. . . . Ken's got a headache from the heat and the awful trip. . . . We're going back to-night, and we sail on the tenth, and, Nola darling, for heaven's sake . . ."
They had a talk. The customary four o'clock dinner was delayed until nearly five because of it. They sat in Magnolia's green-shaded bedroom with its frilled white bedspread and dimity curtains—rather, Kim and Magnolia sat and Ken sprawled his lean length on the bed, looking a little yellow and haggard, what with the heat and the headache. And in the cook's galley, and
