“Nice rooms reasonable,” he said, “and I'll be near to look after you.” “You're awful fresh, seems to me, on short acquaintance,” was Kedzie's stinging rebuke. Skip laughed. “Didn't you see the special-delivery stamp on me forehead? But I guess you're a goil can take care yourself.” Kedzie guessed she was. But she was in need of help. Where else could she turn? Whom else had she for a beau in this multitude of strangers? So she laughed encouragingly. “All right. You're elected. Gimme the address.” Skip wrote it on one of the business cards of the bakery. He added: “Another thing: I know a good expressman will rustle your trunk over from--Where you boardin' at now?” Kedzie flushed. She could hardly tell him that she had boarded in a park up-town somewhere. Skip saw that she was confused. He showed exquisite tact. “I'm wise, goilie. She's holdin' your trunk out on you. I been in the same boat m'self.” Kedzie was willing to let it go at that, but Skip pondered: “But, say--that ain't goin' to make such a hell of a hit--scuse me, lady--but I mean if you tell your new landlady about your trunk bein' left on your old one, that ain't goin' to get you nothin' but the door-slam in the snoot.... I tell you: tell her you just come in on the train and your wardrobe-trunk is on the way unless it got delayed in changin' cars at--oh, any old place. I guess you did come in, at that, from Buffalo or Pittsboig or some them Western joints, didn' you?” Kedzie just looked at him. Her big eyes lied for her, and he hastened to say: “Well, scuse me nosin' in on your own business. Tell the landlady what you want to, only tell her it was me sent you. That's as good as a guarantee--that she'll have to wait for her money.” Kedzie laughed at his excruciating wit, but she was touched also by his courtesy, and she told him he was awful kind and she was terrible obliged. That bowled him over. But when she rose with stateliness and, reaching for her money, offered to pay, he had the presence of mind to snarl, amiably: “Ah, ferget it and beat it. This meal's on me, and wishing you many happy returns of the same.” He certainly was one grand gentleman. The proprietor was away, and Skip could afford to be generous. Kedzie left him and found the landlady and got a home; and then she found the store and got a job. For a time she was in Eden. The doleful proprietor's doleful wife was usually down-cellar making ice-cream while her husband was out in the kitchen cooking candy. Kedzie was free to guzzle soda-water at her will. Her forefinger and thumb went along the stacks of candy, dipping like a robin's beak. She was forever licking her fingers and brushing marshmallow dust off her chest. She usually had a large, square caramel outlined in one round cheek.