A jar of shock struck Faye. “I don’t want you to work.”

“I have to, Mother.”

The word did it. Faye burst into tears, and Kate sat on the arm of her chair and stroked her cheek and wiped her streaming eyes. The outburst sniffled to a close.

The dusk was settling deeply on the valley. Kate’s face was a glow of lightness under her dark hair. “Now you’re all right. I’ll go and look in on the kitchen and then dress.”

“Kate, can’t you tell your regulars you’re sick?”

“Of course not, Mother.”

“Kate, it’s Wednesday. Probably won’t be anybody in after one o’clock.”

“The Woodmen of the World are having a do.”

“Oh, yes. But on Wednesday—the Woodmen won’t be here after two.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Kate, when you close, you tap on my door. I’ll have a little surprise for you.”

“What kind of a surprise?”

“Oh, a secret surprise! Will you ask the cook to come in as you go by the kitchen?”

“Sounds like a cake surprise.”

“Now don’t ask questions, darling. It’s a surprise.”

Kate kissed her. “What a dear you are, Mother.”

When she had closed the door behind her Kate stood for a moment in the hall. Her fingers caressed her little pointed chin. Her eyes were calm. Then she stretched her arms over her head and strained her body in a luxurious yawn. She ran her hands slowly down her sides from right under her breasts to her hips. Her mouth corners turned up a little, and she moved toward the kitchen.

[2]

The few regulars drifted in and out and two drummers walked down the Line to look them over, but not a single Woodman of the World showed up. The girls sat yawning in the parlor until two o’clock, waiting.

What kept the Woodmen away was a sad accident. Clarence Monteith had a heart attack right in the middle of the closing ritual and before supper. They laid him out on the carpet and dampened his forehead until the doctor came. Nobody felt like sitting down to the doughnut supper. After Dr. Wilde had arrived and looked Clarence over, the Woodmen made a stretcher by putting flagpoles through the sleeves of two overcoats. On the way home Clarence died, and they had to go for Dr. Wilde again. And by the time they had made plans for the funeral and written the piece for the Salinas Journal, nobody had any heart for a whorehouse.

The next day, when they found out what had happened, the girls all remembered what Ethel had said at ten minutes to two.

“My God!” Ethel had said. “I never heard it so quiet. No music, cat’s got Kate’s tongue. It’s like setting up with a corpse.”

Later Ethel was impressed with having said it—almost as if she knew.

Grace had said, “I wonder what cat’s got Kate’s tongue. Don’t you feel good? Kate—I said, don’t you feel good?”

Kate started. “Oh! I guess I was thinking of something.”