"Two hands! One foot! BOTH FEET!"
There was a hurricane of galloping fists and soles. Then, in diminuendo:
"One foot! One hand! Four fingers, three, two, one! Halt!"
The clatter grew softer and softer till at last all was still.
As Gay opened the door, Fancy heard a roar that increased steadily until it became a wild hullabaloo. Looking in, she saw the six seated about the table, the coffee glasses jumping madly with the percussion. The noise was like the multitudinous charge of troopers. Then the tumult died slowly away, the patter grew softer and softer, ending in a sudden hush as seven faces looked up at her. Gay P. Summer's advent was greeted with frowns, but Fancy gathered an instant acclaim from twelve critical eyes.
She stepped boldly into the room and shed the radiance of her smile upon the company.
"I guess this is where I live, all right!" she announced. "I've been gone a long time, haven't I? Never mind the introductions. I'm Fancy Gray, drifter; welcome to our fair city!"
They let loose a cry of welcome, and Dougal, rising, opened a place for her between his chair and Maxim's.
"I'm for her!" He hailed her with a good-natured grin. "She's the right shape. Come and have coffee!"
"I accept!" said Fancy Gray.