"Goodnight, young man," Mom said firmly. She padded off, leaving Sol holding the towel. He patted his face, and then scrubbed the wet tangle of brown hair. Carefully, he stepped off the carpet and onto the stone floor in front of the fireplace. He removed his drenched coat and suit jacket, and squeezed water out over the ashes. He stripped down to his underwear, wondering about next morning's possible embarrassment, and decided to use the damp bath towel as a blanket. The sofa was downy and comfortable. He curled up under the towel, shivered once, and closed his eyes. * * * * * He was tired and very sleepy, and his customary nightly review was limited to a few detached thoughts about the wedding he was supposed to attend in Salinas that weekend ... the hoodlum who had responded to his good-nature by dumping him out of his own car ... the slogging walk to the village ... the little round woman who was hurrying off, like the White Rabbit, to some mysterious appointment on the upper floor ... Then he went to sleep. A voice awoke him, shrill and questioning. "Are you _nakkid_?" His eyes flew open, and he pulled the towel protectively around his body and glared at the little girl with the rust-red pigtails. "Huh, mister?" she said, pushing a finger against her freckled nose. "Are you?" "No," he said angrily. "I'm not naked. Will you please go away?" "Sally!" It was Mom, appearing in the doorway of the parlor. "You leave the gentleman alone." She went off again. "Yes," Sol said. "Please let me get dressed. If you don't mind." The girl didn't move. "What time is it?" "Dunno," Sally shrugged. "I like poached eggs. They're my favorite eggs in the whole world." "That's good," Sol said desperately. "Now why don't you be a good girl and eat your poached eggs. In the kitchen." "Ain't ready yet. You going to stay for breakfast?" "I'm not going to do anything until you get out of here." She put the end of a pigtail in her mouth and sat down on the chair opposite. "I went to the palace last night. They had an exelution." "Please," Sol groaned. "Be a good girl, Sally. If you let me get dressed, I'll show you how to take your thumb off." "Oh, that's an old trick. Did you ever see an exelution?" "No. Did you ever see a little girl with her hide tanned?" "Huh?" "_Sally!_" Mom again, sterner. "You get out of there, or you-know-what ..." "Okay," the girl said blithely. "I'm goin' to the palace again. If I brush my teeth. Aren't you _ever_ gonna get up?" She skipped out of the room, and Sol hastily sat up and reached for his trousers. When he had dressed, the clothes still damp and unpleasant against his skin, he went out of the parlor and found the kitchen. Mom was busy at the stove. He said: "Good morning." "Breakfast in ten minutes," she said cheerfully. "You like poached eggs?" "Sure. Do you have a telephone?" "In the hallway. Party line, so you may have to wait."