"Oh, you fuss so over your nails," said the other girl irritably. "I think it's bad taste, somehow. I can't bear these women who take every moment they get to compare their hair and teeth and nails and fingers; there's something monkey-like about it, sort of like savages. I suppose," Sard laughed a little ironically, "if I had nothing else to do but sit on the sand and smear oil on my skin I'd be interested in such things, too." "Whew!" whistled Minga imperturbably, "you are all rubbed up! You foam, you fairly sizzle!" She went over to her friend and archly explained. "It's only my sweet womanly concern for my lover--dearrrest--Tawny has telephoned; only engaged six dances. I think he's slipping away from me, and I don't want to lose him, not when they're doing that queer 'bubble and squeak step' and he's the only man who can do it. Tawny," explained Minga, "must see his ring glittering upon the most feminine little hand in the world. You see I have a feeling that he wants to pass me up for Cynthia or Gertrude; these two have been corresponding with him, and he sent them candy last week--_Blaaaaaa!_" Minga, with a gesture of disgust, dropped her eyes. She waved her buffer in the air, fastening her eyes on her friend. "Does he think he can fool me that way? Ahem, I'm talking." The other girl's head was turned away, the eyes staring in troubled fixity at the river. "If anyone were to fall out of the hearse and ask me," said Minga with tender solemnity, "I should reply that I did not think you were interested." It was the quality of essential good nature in this girl that made her loved. All Minga's idle words, her flippancies and inconsistencies seemed to conceal some sound core of being that made her not willing to wound. Now, she went over and brought her hand down on Sard's back. "Minga!" The other started irritably and edged away. "Oh, pshaw!" said the little person with bobbed hair. "Sard, don't be silly; you act like Mannikin Maude, the Temperamental Tempest. Now in good, plain American what's the matter?" Minga, turning her friend's head to meet her eyes, pronounced her verdict. "Say, look here, you've--you've been no good since that night on the mountain with Watts Shipman; he snubbed you, I suppose, the way he snubbed us all. Well, what do you care? He's only a silly old bachelor. Pooh!" Minga addressed her finger nails, "I could eat into his heart like a maggot if I only wanted to----" She slapped Sard on the back again. "Ooooo--but you're gloomy. Brace up, cheer up, swell up, the worst is yet to come!" No one could withstand this absurd rallying. The girl at the window smiled in spite of herself, but she shook her head. "Minga," in a low voice, "that man out there is somebody!"