Argosy, Vol. 122, No. 1 — page 130: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

120 “You knew ITred—over there?” she asked. “T was with him when—”’ “Nix on kiddin’ with th’ cust’mers, gir- lie,” cut in the insolent, full-throated voice of Delphine, minded in this instance to en- force a rule that usually was disregarded. As she spoke, she tapped Martha Anne on the shoulder with a yellow lead pencil. It was the crack of the whip over the quaking galley-slave. Only Martha Anne didn’t quake. “Gee! how much prettier a pretty girl looks when she’s mad!” thought Jimmie Candee. He had been using his eyes, He was considerably flustered; but he was a shrewd youth; and he thought that he un- derstood. Three strokes of the bell on the cashier’s desk pierced the other clamor. There was an instant response of bustling, scuffling, high-heeled shoes. Big bows and white aprons started a parade toward the door to the locker-room. Eight o’clock had: ar- rived. Some time before—more than two years —Jimmie had eaten a few meals in one of these Giles places. He understood that bell. He moved in toward the wall, hung up his hat, and faced Delphine with a tan- talizing smile. “T’m going to have supper,” he said. ‘“‘ Please reserve another seat for a friend— no—this one right across from me.” He turned to Martha Anne. “Yowre off guard now. Go and get your street togs on, an’ stop here on your way out.” Opposite him Delphine slammed the back of a chair against the edge of the stone table-top with emphasis. “Thanks,” said Jimmie sweetly, and be- came absorbed in the menu. Delphine, minus her usual moved off to consult the manager. Ten minutes later, Martha Anne, still flushed, and looking rather scared, hesitated at the end of the table. She had removed her badges of servitude, and a chic little hat -with a blue bow sat on her soft blond hair. Jimmie surveyed the effect approv- ingly. | ‘“‘Sit down—right across there,’ he di- aplomb, THE ARGOSY. rected. Now that he was meeting with op- position, Jimmie was fast losing his timid- ity. ‘I haven’t ordered yet.” Henderson, the manager, warned by Del- phine, had hung in the offing and watched the course of events. He now interposed. ‘““Tt’s against the house rules for the waitresses to sit at these tables,” he said briskly. “ Sorry, mister.” The last was a palpable lie. Martha Anne started to draw back. “ Sit down!” commanded Jimmie. “ She’s fired if she does,” snarled Hen- derson, triumphantly. “* Oh, very well; have her time ready for her at the desk, and we'll collect it as we go out,” rejoined Jimmie coolly. Martha Anne’s chin had tilted suddenly at that word “ fired.’’ She sat. “Now you run along,’”’ said Jimmie to Henderson. The manager moved away, murmuring his opinion of “ fresh guys ”’; but careful to keep his voice at a discreet pitch. He, too, had noticed Jimmie’s square shoulders. ‘““Order something.” Jimmie thrust a menu across the table. One of the night girls stood by, her features struggling be- tween pretended scorn and real curiosity. Martha Anne protested. Jimmie in- sisted. ‘‘ Toast and coffee,” faltered Mar- tha Anne. ‘“‘ Here; I said order something! That’s nothing.” Jimmie took the menu away from her. ‘ You look tired—and I'll bet you’re hungry.”’ He turned to the waiting girl, ‘ Bring us a coupla sirloin steaks, hash-browned potatoes, olives, celery, string-beans, Boston brown bread and cof- fee; with ice-cream and chocolate cake afterwards,” he ordered, with the glibness of one who is no longer restricted to “ ra- tions.”’ He sat back and contemplated Martha Anne with growing satisfaction. “About my brother—Fyred,” she sug- gested, timidly, when the waitress had de- parted. Before the arrival of the steaks, he had told her, gently as he could. ‘And I gave him my last cigarette, an’ he went away west while he was smokin’ it,’ he ended. ‘‘ That was nearly a year ago.”’ cComiclbooks.com