“Good stuff is right, ma’am. Government goods, made before the war,” and he was gone. Shortly he returned with their food, a bottle of ginger ale and a small flask wrapped in a napkin. The latter he placed at the side of Mrs. O’Brien’s plate, and without further ado was away to attend to other duties. After pouring the contents of the flask, about a half pint, into their glasses, Mrs. O’Brien studied the label on the bottle and with a smile read “For medicinal purposes only.” “Yes, rye whiskey, bonded by the government about two months ago. You see what I mean by the ‘state of mind’?” During the meal, enlivened by the cheering cup, they heard snatches of the conversations of nearby diners. All were speaking of the liquor situation. One woman admitted that prior to the country going dry she never thought of drinking, now she couldn’t get enough. A man remarked that he and others, belonging to his club, were operating under protection. When the check was presented Mrs. O’Brien noted that the whiskey was not charged for. But the waiter stood there with his hand resting on the table, three fingers pointed ceilingward--“Three dollars extra for the substantials.” The bill paid and the waiter gone, pleased with a generous tip, the two strolled about in the lobby. After a few minutes wait Mr. O’Brien put in appearance. Soon the three were seated in the Benz he had brought with him from Europe, and after taking Sana to see the State Capitol, they went spinning over the roads towards their lodge in the Catskill forests. The mountain life did Sana a world of good. Mrs. O’Brien loved the outdoor life and would give Sana no rest. She would rout her out of bed early in the morning and the two would go for a tramp across hill and valley. Then again there would be a tennis game to be played, or a ride on horseback that could be put off no longer. Sana rode well, in fact her riding was the envy of all who saw her. Many a long ride was had over the picturesque mountain roads--down old Rip Van Winkle’s trail--down through the wonderfully beautiful Kaaterskill Canyon, or over to Haines Falls, Tannersville and Prattsville, formerly the center of America’s tanning industry, and where today there stands a monument, just outside the village, dedicated to Pratt, the founder, in the form of a statue cut out of the living rock. So employed, the remaining summer days went all too fast for Sana, and the cold mountain days drew on. But with their coming returned all Sana’s youthful vigor and charm. Her face glowed with the wine of life and her eyes sparkled like winter stars. Before returning to New York the O’Briens took Sana to see Niagara Falls. “The greatest sight in the world,” chortled Mr. O’Brien, “and it’s American.” And Sana agreed with him.