When Speedy, arrayed in his spick and span new gray suit, arrived at the Dillon's flat bright and early the next morning he discovered Jane in the kitchen. An over-sized apron protected her best gown. She was making sandwiches for their luncheon. This was the second noontime repast she had prepared that day. Pop Dillon had taken his with him when he departed for the car some time previously. She stopped her work for a minute to inspect Speedy.
"You look fine, Harold," she complimented as he pivoted around in front of her to give her a view of his sartorial splendor from all sides.
"You look nice too, Jane," he returned. "Are we all set? Have you got your bathing suit?"
"Isn't it too late in the season for swimming?" she asked.
"Oh, no. It's a beautiful, sunshiny day out—warm as midsummer."
They packed luncheon and bathing suits into the small imitation leather suitcase, a relic of the days when Jane was attending public school and carrying: her books in it. Then Jane donned her trim little hat and coat and they were off.
At the corner they descended into the cavernous depths of the subway. The trains were packed to the last inch of standing room with workers bound
