K. had postponed his leaving until fall. Sidney had been insistent, and
Harriet had topped the argument in her businesslike way. "If you insist on
being an idiot and adopting the Rosenfeld family," she said, "wait until
September. The season for boarders doesn't begin until fall."

So K. waited for "the season," and ate his heart out for Sidney in the
interval.

Johnny Rosenfeld still lay in his ward, inert from the waist down. K. was
his most frequent visitor. As a matter of fact, he was watching the boy
closely, at Max Wilson's request.

"Tell me when I'm to do it," said Wilson, "and when the time comes, for
God's sake, stand by me. Come to the operation. He's got so much
confidence that I'll help him that I don't dare to fail."

So K. came on visiting days, and, by special dispensation, on Saturday
afternoons. He was teaching the boy basket-making. Not that he knew
anything about it himself; but, by means of a blind teacher, he kept just
one lesson ahead. The ward was intensely interested. It found something
absurd and rather touching in this tall, serious young man with the
surprisingly deft fingers, tying raffia knots.

The first basket went, by Johnny's request, to Sidney Page.

"I want her to have it," he said. "She got corns on her fingers from
rubbing me when I came in first; and, besides--"