“Yes.”
The two milkmen, who were sleeping more soundly than ever, appreciated their listeners’ applause. They were indulging in a crescendo.
“Silence and listen!” Breen warned so solemnly that Nielsen, and even Carstairs, laughed.
Breen and Nielsen exchanged nods. They had accomplished their object. Erna came back with their orders.
“What music have we here?” Breen hailed her.
She set their orders on the table, and arranged their plates, knives, forks and spoons. “What did you say?”
“What music is this emanating from yon Orpheus and his Eurydice?”
“Must be some ragtime,” she suggested.
Breen feigned disappointment.
“It all depends upon one’s taste, you see,” Nielsen interpreted for him.