Most customers didn't notice the perfume, or at least didn't comment upon it. But to the few who remarked with pleasure about it. Grant said, "Yep, I guess there were some pretty sweet girls staying here last night"; and to those who didn't seem to like the odor, he said, "I guess the people that stayed here last night must have spilled some perfume." Although, with my help, Grant was getting a lot of work accomplished these days, he was getting a lot of talking done too. Every time he "stopped in to see" another motel owner, I knew he'd be embroiled in conversation for at least two hours; and he was still as helpless as ever in the hands of a salesman. One late afternoon right after dinner a salesman came into the office laden with descriptive literature about a well-known set of books--a set we already had, as it happened. I went into the kitchen to wash the dishes, thinking that here at last was a salesman Grant would be able to get rid of, since we possessed the product he was selling. The rumble of voices in the office continued, and I began to get provoked. I wanted Grant to dry the dishes. I went into the living room and stood by the closed office door, listening. "It's a great bargain, really a great bargain," the salesman was saying. So--evidently Grant, in his love of conversation and his inability to end one, hadn't yet broken the news to the salesman that we already had a set of the books. Well, I'd take care of that. I opened the bookcase, took two of the books from the set and went into the office, laying them on the desk where the salesman could see them. Then I went back and finished washing dishes. And in about two minutes Grant was beside me drying them, a sheepish expression on his face. Winter came to Banning with grace and beauty. First the most distant, highest ranges of mountains were covered with snow. The majestic San Gorgonio range, to the north of us, looked gigantic and pure under its spotless woolly white blanket. Later in the season the closer mountains were sprinkled with snow, until all the mountains pressing in on the north and the south were white. The wind that still blew continually was crisp, and bright, and cold; and the heat from our little gas wall-heater was a welcome luxury after working outside. Miss Nesdeburt stopped in one cold morning to pay her rent. Her blue eyes were sparkling, and I knew she was eager to tell me something. She was humming beneath her breath as she started to write a check. She hesitated, and pulled off her glasses. "Sometimes I can't see so well through these things!" she confessed. She signed her name on the check, blotted it, and replaced her glasses. I took the check, thanked her, and gave her the opening she was obviously hoping for by saying, "Well, what did you dream about last night?" "Oh, I dreamed I was peeling potatoes, wearing an apron, and there was a baby crying."