I told Hellwig that his cabin would be number 14. It was a double, but all of our singles were taken. Picking his suitcase up carefully and slowly, he followed me to his cabin. He carried the suitcase into the back bedroom of the cabin, and announced that he was going to take a nap. Grandma was sweeping around the edges of the carpet when I went back. "Where in Tarnation's the vacuum cleaner?" she demanded. "I'll be swear'n if they ain't too much dirt here to get up with a broom. Them children must lug sand in all day." "They do," I admitted. "Here, you sit down. I'll vacuum." While I vacuumed, Grandma hurried about wiping fingerprints off the doors. Her energy inspired me, and we cleaned house for about an hour. Grant rented two cabins while we were working, and then he stuck his head in the doorway to inform me he was going across the street to talk to the owner of the Blue Bonnet motel. "Old Wagonseller come over to see me twice last week," Grandma remarked, when we were alone. "He sure spends the dough, too. Both times he brought me a big box of candy, and the last time he brought me a real orchid! Thunderation, I never see anything like it!" "He must like you," I observed. "Ayah, he sure must. He must like me a sight better'n anyone else he ever met. Godfrey Mighty, I could catch him like a fly, if I was a mind to." "Why don't you, then?" "Well... Hellwig'd be pretty plaguey mad if I did anything like that!" "He's had his chance. You've given him twenty-five years and he hasn't asked you to marry him. He hasn't any right to object now if you marry someone else." "No..." Grandma said doubtfully. And then I told her the idea I had had about Hellwig--that maybe it was his vow never to propose again that had prevented his popping the question; that maybe if she'd do the popping ... "He wun't never marry me," she said gloomily. Grandma peeled potatoes while I added beaten eggs to a bowl of hamburger. "Wagonseller . . . what a H. of a name," Grandma mused, scooping potato peelings into the sawed-off milk carton we used for a temporary garbage container. "An' he's the spittin' image of a pert little bird, ain't he? But he can sure spend the dough!" "Oh, Wagonseller isn't a bad name," I said soothingly. "You should read some of the names on our registration cards. Last night, for instance, there were two or three outlandish ones. Let's see--well, Tinklingwhiskers for one. Mr. Tinklingwhiskers. How do you suppose the poor man ever gets to sleep at night?" "Speaking of sleeping, I never see anything like the nap Hellwig's taking. Do you suppose we oughta go wake him up?" "Oh, no. He's probably tired after the long bus ride. Let's just let him rest until dinner is ready." Grant wasn't home by the time dinner was ready to put on the table. I went out into the office and looked through the window, across the street. He was standing on the porch in front of the office of the Blue Bonnet motel.