That curious constraint which had fallen upon Jimmy in the road came
to him again, now, as sobering as a blow. Something which he could not
define had changed the atmosphere. Suddenly in an instant, like a
shallow stream that runs babbling over the stones into some broad,
still pool, the note of their talk had deepened.

"Yes," he said simply. He could find no words for what he wished to
say.

"I've thought of you--often," said Molly.

He took a step toward her. But the moment had passed. Her mood had
changed in a flash, or seemed to have changed. The stream babbled on
over the stones again.

"Be careful, Jimmy! You nearly touched me with the spoon. I don't want
to be covered with that horrible stuff. Look at that poor, little
chicken out there in the cold. It hasn't had a morsel."

Jimmy responded to her lead. There was nothing else for him to do.

"It's in luck," he said.

"Give it a spoonful."

"It can have one if it likes. But it's taking big risks. Here you are,
Hercules. Pitch in."

He scraped the last spoonful out of the iron pot, and they began to