“Oh; that so?” observed Captain Zelotes, looking after the flying car with interest. “That's who 'tis, eh? Nice lookin', the young one, ain't she?”
Albert did not answer. With the noise of the train which was carrying Helen out of his life still ringing in his ears it seemed wicked even to mention another girl's name, to say nothing of commenting upon her good looks. For the rest of that day he was a gloomy spirit, a dark shadow in the office of Z. Snow and Co.
Before the end of another fortnight the season at South Harniss was definitely over. The hotel closed on the Saturday following the dance, and by October first the last of the cottages was locked and shuttered. The Kelseys went on the twentieth and the Fosdicks went with them. Albert met Madeline and Jane at the post-office in the evening of the nineteenth and there more farewells were said.
“Don't forget us down here in the sand, will you?” he suggested to Miss Fosdick. It was Jane Kelsey who answered.
“Oh, she won't forget,” returned that young lady. “Why she has your photograph to remember you by.”
Madeline colored becomingly and was, as Jane described it, “awfully fussed.”
“Nonsense!” she exclaimed, with much indignation, “I haven't any such thing. You know I haven't, Jane.”
“Yes, you have, my dear. You have a photograph of him standing in front of the drug store and looking dreamily in at—at the strawberry sundaes. It is a most romantic pose, really.”
Albert laughed. He remembered the photograph. It was one of a series of snapshots taken with Miss Kelsey's camera one Saturday afternoon when a party of young people had met in front of the sundae dispensary. Jane had insisted on “snapping” everyone.
“That reminds me that I have never seen the rest of those photographs,” he said.