After a delicious supper in the famous sea-food specialty restaurant, to which Cis did fuller justice than Nan, Cis lay back in her chair, her small cup of black coffee before her, her eyes on the contorted shoulders of the ’cellist of the orchestra of four pieces which “helped float the fish,” Cis said.
“Going to tell me?” hinted Nan.
“I hate to, Nan, because I know you’ll hate it, and so do I, when I think of you. But I’m going to get out of here, altogether; I’m going to Beaconhite to try my luck,” announced Cicely.
“Beaconhite! Whatever for?” gasped Nan.
“Never could tell you,” said Cis airily. “Always wanted to try that little city. Spells its name so crazy, that’s one reason; must have been Beacon Height once, of course. I always had an idea I’d like it; it’s hustling, yet settled. I’ve some money saved up; not much; enough to carry me on till I get to earning, and I’m dead sick, dead tired of here! Not tired of you, little Nan, but of the place. I think I’d better move up a square or two; ’tisn’t good to cork up too much fermentation. Honest, Nan, it’s lucky I’ve not taken up that vitamine bug they’re all rushing so! If I ate yeast cakes, like the rest of ’em, I’d fly to pieces! I’m going to Beaconhite and show it what a red-haired girl can do to it! Nanny, don’t look so sorry! And don’t cry, dear! That lobster shell had enough salt water, and too much hot water!”
“You’ll forget all about me, and I love you dearly, Cis,” faltered Nan.
“I’m just as fond of you as you are of me, nice little Silly!” cried Cis. “Only I’m not keen on mushiness. You’ve got to allow me one virtue: I stick when once I’m stuck; no waving around to this solid body! We’ll be just as good friends, and we’ll get together again, here or there, but it’s the truth, Nan; I’ve got to break off, and break out new, or my red hair’ll blaze up like a fire balloon, and there’ll be no more of Miss Adair! I hated to tell you, but I’m glad it’s done! If this hadn’t happened in the office I’d have left next October; now it has happened, I’m going right off—or sooner.”
“Right off? How soon, Cis?” faltered Nan.
“This is Friday; don’t you think Monday is a good day to start a new record? First day of the week, first week day of the week, and washing day?” Cis suggested.
“I don’t suppose any other day would be easier,” admitted Nan. “Will you stay with me Sunday night, start from my house? Oh, Cis, Cis! There are only two days before Monday, and I never dreamed, never once dreamed this morning that I’d ever lose you!”