She protested: “Now you just see....” And she moved lightly around behind him and wrapped the film of silken stuff about his head. “There,” she said, and looked at him, and laughed gayly. “You’re the funniest-looking thing.” Wint unwound the scarf gingerly. “It feels like cobwebs,” he said. “I don’t see how you can wear it. Sticky stuff.” “Men are always afraid of things like cobwebs. Always afraid of little things.” Wint chuckled. “What’s this? New philosophy of life?” “Can’t I say anything serious?” “Why, sure. I don’t know but what you’re right, too.” He had taken one of the chairs. She sat down in the hammock. “Come sit here with me,” she invited. “That chair’s not comfortable.” “Oh, it’s all right.” She stamped her foot. “I should think you’d do what I say when you come to see me.” “Matter of fact, you know, I came to see your father.” “Well, you’re staying to see me. If you don’t sit in the hammock, I’m going in the house and leave you.” Wint held up his hands in mock consternation. “Heaven forbid.” He sat down beside her, as uncomfortable as a man must always be in a hammock; and she leaned away from him, half reclining, enjoying his discomfort. He could see her laughing at him in the moonlight. She pointed one forefinger at him, stroked it with the other as one strops a razor. “‘Fraid to sit in the hammock with a girl,” she taunted. She was very pretty and provoking in the silver light; and Wint understood that he could kiss her if he chose. He had kissed Agnes before this. “Wink” and “Post Office” and kindred games were popular when he and Agnes were in high school together. But--he had no notion of kissing Agnes, moonlight or no moonlight. He had come to see Amos. Amos’s daughter was another matter. “When is Amos coming home?” he asked. “Has he called up? Maybe I’d better walk uptown.” “He called and said he was starting,” she assured him. “You stay right here. He’ll be here, unless he gets to talking some of your old politics. I suppose that’s what you came to see him for.” “Oh, I just happened down this way....” She sat up straight. “Good gracious. You act as though it were a secret. Tell me, this minute.” “Why, as a matter of fact,” said Wint good-naturedly, “I want to talk to him about a sewer the city’s going to put in through some land he owns. I guess you’re not interested in sewers.” She grimaced, and said she should say not. “I thought maybe it was something about the bootleggers,” she said. “Everybody’s talking about them. What are you going to do to them?” Wint laughed. “That’s like the instructions for destroying potato bugs,” he said. “First, catch your potato bug.” “You mean you haven’t caught any?” “Not yet.” “Are you trying to?” “Why, we’ve got our eyes open.” “I love to hear about criminals and everything,” she said. “What will you do to them when you get them? Send them to jail?” “Well, I’ll do that, if I can’t do anything worse.”