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"
That
’
s
it
!
"
said
Bill
Forrester
.
"
Yes
,
sir
!
"
said
Douglas
.
And
,
while
waiting
,
they
turned
slowly
on
their
rotating
stools
.
The
silver
spigots
,
the
gleaming
mirrors
,
the
hushed
whirl
-
around
ceiling
fans
,
the
green
shades
over
the
small
windows
,
the
harp
-
wire
chairs
,
passed
under
their
moving
gaze
.
They
stopped
turning
.
Their
eyes
had
touched
upon
the
face
and
form
of
Miss
Helen
Loomis
,
ninety
-
five
years
old
,
ice
-
cream
spoon
in
hand
,
ice
cream
in
mouth
.
"
Young
man
,
"
she
said
to
Bill
Forrester
,
"
you
are
a
person
of
taste
and
imagination
.
Also
,
you
have
the
will
power
of
ten
men
;
otherwise
you
would
not
dare
veer
away
from
the
common
flavors
listed
on
the
menu
and
order
,
straight
out
,
without
quibble
or
reservation
,
such
an
unheard
-
of
thing
as
lime
-
vanilla
ice
.
"
He
bowed
his
head
solemnly
to
her
.
"
Come
sit
with
me
,
both
of
you
,
"
she
said
.
"
We
’
ll
talk
of
strange
ice
creams
and
such
things
as
we
seem
to
have
a
bent
for
.
Don
’
t
be
afraid
;
I
’
ll
foot
the
bill
.
"
Smiling
,
they
carried
their
dishes
to
her
table
and
sat
.
"
You
look
like
a
Spaulding
,
"
she
said
to
the
boy
.
"
You
’
ve
got
your
grandfather
’
s
head
.
And
you
,
you
’
re
William
Forrester
.
You
write
for
the
Chronicle
,
a
good
enough
column
.
I
’
ve
heard
more
about
you
than
I
’
d
care
to
tell
.
"
"
I
know
you
,
"
said
Bill
Forrester
.
"
You
’
re
Helen
Loomis
.
"
He
hesitated
,
then
continued
.
"
T
was
in
love
with
you
once
,
"
he
said
.
