I had just sense enough to let it ride at that, for you can't push a
thing too far before breakfast. But I didn't mean to let this grand
little idea of mine grow cold. It struck me that, if ever I was goin'
to call for a show-down from Auntie, this was the day.
So, when I finally turned in for a forenoon nap, I was busier plottin'
out just how it ought to be done than I was at makin' up lost sleep. I
ain't one of them that can romp around all night, though, and then do
the fretful toss on the hay for very long after I've hit the pillow.
First thing I knew, I was pryin' my eyes open to find that it's almost
1:30 P.M., and with the sun beatin' straight down on the deck overhead
I don't need to turn on any steam heat in the stateroom.
A good souse in a tubful of salty Gulf water wakes me up all over, and
when I've dolled myself in a fresh Palm Beach suit and a soft collared
shirt I'm feelin' like Winnin' Willie.
As it happens, Vee and I has the luncheon table to ourselves that day,
neither Auntie nor Mr. Ellins havin' shown up, and the others bein' all
through. And somehow Vee always does have that look of--well, as
though she'd just blown in from the rose garden. You know, kind of
clean and crisp and--and honeysuckley.
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