Mom fixed him a light lunch, the greatest feature of which was some hot biscuits she plucked out of the oven. It made him feel almost normal. He wandered around the town some more after lunch, trying to spark conversation with the residents. He learned little. * * * * * At five-thirty, he returned to the Dawes house, and was promptly leaped upon by little Sally. "Hi! Hi! Hi!" she said, clutching his right leg and almost toppling him over. "We had a party in school. I had chocolate cake. You goin' to stay with us?" "Just another night," Sol told her, trying to shake the girl off. "If it's okay with your folks. They haven't found my car yet." "Sally!" Mom was peering out of the screen door. "You let Mr. Becker alone and go wash. Your Pa will be home soon." "Oh, pooh," the girl said, her pigtails swinging. "Do you got a girlfriend, mister?" "No." Sol struggled towards the house with her dead weight on his leg. "Would you mind? I can't walk." "Would you be my boyfriend?" "Well, we'll talk about it. If you let go my leg." Inside the house, she said: "We're having pot roast. You stayin'?" "Of course Mr. Becker's stayin'," Mom said. "He's our guest." "That's very kind of you," Sol said. "I really wish you'd let me pay something--" "Don't want to hear another word about pay." * * * * * Mr. Dawes came home an hour later, looking tired. Mom pecked him lightly on the forehead. He glanced at the evening paper, and then spoke to Sol. "Hear you been asking questions, Mr. Becker." Sol nodded, embarrassed. "Guess I have. I'm awfully curious about this Armagon place. Never heard of anything like it before." Dawes grunted. "You ain't a reporter?" "Oh, no. I'm an engineer. I was just satisfying my own curiosity." "Uh-huh." Dawes looked reflective. "You wouldn't be thinkin' about writing us up or anything. I mean, this is a pretty private affair." "Writing it up?" Sol blinked. "I hadn't thought of it. But you'll have to admit--it's sure interesting." "Yeah," Dawes said narrowly. "I guess it would be." "Supper!" Mom called. After the meal, they spent a quiet evening at home. Sally went to bed, screaming her reluctance, at eight-thirty. Mom, dozing in the big chair near the fireplace, padded upstairs at nine. Then Dawes yawned widely, stood up, and said goodnight at quarter-of-ten. He paused in the doorway before leaving. "I'd think about that," he said. "Writing it up, I mean. A lot of folks would think you were just plum crazy." Sol laughed feebly. "I guess they would at that." "Goodnight," Dawes said. "Goodnight." He read Sally's copy of _Treasure Island_ for about half an hour. Then he undressed, made himself comfortable on the sofa, snuggled under the soft blanket that Mom had provided, and shut his eyes.