apple, and it gave forth a cracking sound when his teeth met
in its white meat. Fanny, after regarding him with gloomy
superiority, went to bed.

She had willed to sleep late, for gastronomic reasons, but
the mental command disobeyed itself, and she woke early,
with a heavy feeling. Early as it was, Molly Brandeis had
tiptoed in still earlier to look at her strange little
daughter. She sometimes did that on Saturday mornings when
she left early for the store and Fanny slept late. This
morning Fanny's black hair was spread over the pillow as she
lay on her back, one arm outflung, the other at her breast.
She made a rather startlingly black and white and scarlet
picture as she lay there asleep. Fanny did things very much
in that way, too, with broad, vivid, unmistakable splashes
of color. Mrs. Brandeis, looking at the black-haired, red-
lipped child sleeping there, wondered just how much
determination lay back of the broad white brow. She had
said little to Fanny about this feat of fasting, and she
told herself that she disapproved of it. But in her heart
she wanted the girl to see it through, once attempted.

Fanny awoke at half past seven, and her nostrils dilated to
that most exquisite, tantalizing and fragrant of smells--the
aroma of simmering coffee. It permeated the house. It
tickled the senses. It carried with it visions of hot,
brown breakfast rolls, and eggs, and butter. Fanny loved
her breakfast. She turned over now, and decided to go to
sleep again. But she could not. She got up and dressed
slowly and carefully. There was no one to hurry her this