Suddenly the song of the katydid ceases, and the cat, seized with panic, leaps from the north steps and vanishes beneath the grape trellis at the back. Footfalls sound on the cement, and presently a couple slant across the lawn to the porch, issuing from the shadow of the trees into the white light that floods the lawn. He is seen to be a well set up youth who looks twenty-three. It is the moon, for he is twenty. Upon his blond head is perched a slouch hat of a dirty gray color and bound with a wide black band. His trousers, turned up at the ankles, are baggy at the hips and bulge beneath the belted Norfolk jacket that he wears. His hat is pulled down rakishly in front. She is a head shorter than he, and plump. Were it high noon her face would glow ruddy. She wears a straw sailor-hat such as no sailor ever wore; a shirt waist, and a white duck skirt that flares at the hem and appears somewhat crumpled. Her steps are mincing; he slouches. Between them they carry by its two out-springing handles a small luncheon hamper. He is a junior; his walk gives the clue to his class. So is she; so does hers. At the porch he sets the basket on the lowest step and turns to her:-- JAMIE. Well, we beat 'em; didn't we? HILDA [_fumbling in her finger purse_]. Uh huh. Let's go up-stairs and wait. JAMIE [_doubtfully_]. Had we better? Won't your landlady think---- It's awful late. HILDA [_testily_]. We don't pay her three dollars a week to think; besides, they'll surely be here in a minute. We couldn't have been more than a mile ahead of them. They're at the livery now, probably. [_During this speech she fumbles in her purse._] Oh, dear! JAMIE [_endeavoring to smother a yawn_]. Wha's mat'r? HILDA [_looking up at him and making a little moüe_]. I can't find my key! JAMIE [_with a quick show of interest_]. You haven't lost it, have you? HILDA [_snappishly_]. Well, it isn't here, anyway. Oh, oh, oh, how mad it makes me to lose things--but--I remember now; I left it on the _chiffonier_ while we were dressing. Just to think I should have come away and left it lying there--oh, dear! [_She gazes up at him appealingly._] JAMIE [_a note of resignation in his voice, perhaps, which she, however, does not seem to perceive_]. What's the difference? We'll wait for 'em. Minnie'll have hers, won't she? It'll be nicer waiting out here, anyway. Look at that moon! Beaut, isn't it? [_He takes up the basket and moves away._] HILDA. Where are you going? JAMIE [_perhaps significantly_]. 'Round on the side porch; this is too near the street. HILDA [_following him, and aside_]. I can't see why they don't come. [_Aloud._] Can we hear them? JAMIE. Sure! [_He sets the basket beside one of the pillars of the north porch. They both sit on the top step, she with her elbows on her knees, her chin in her two hands. For a space he whistles softly between his teeth. Thereafter they converse in half-whispers._] JAMIE. They'll be along in a minute.