He softly rubbed his chin against her cheek. Pen liked it.
There came a hail from down the road ahead. "Hey, Jones!"
They moved apart. Don answered: "Coming!" To Pen he said breathlessly: "How can we meet? ... Oh woman, if you knew how I was hungering for you day and night!"
"No! No!" said Pen. "Everything's going so well. We mustn't take risks ... But we ought to have some way of communicating."
"Name it quick!"
She considered swiftly. "... Do you know my fattening-coop under the tree back of the kitchen?"
"I can find it."
"There's a little water-pan inside it. Look under that for a letter."
"All right," he laughed. "If I'm pinched for swiping chickens you'll have to clear me!"
He ran down the road. Pen followed at a sober pace—still a little dazed.