“Not to have any more self-respect!”
“Yes! I always said she’d come to a bad end.”
“Looks that way!”
Their gossipping might have continued indefinitely had not part of it been heard by an eavesdropper. She came stealthily into the kitchen and of a sudden, the waitresses received some resounding slaps. The pair screamed.
Erna called them one or two unquotable names and tried to continue her attack. But she saw Landsmann coming into the kitchen and beat a retreat into the dining room, although not without this parting shot: “So you’re the kind I’ve been givin’ dresses to!”
Herr Landsmann was a busy man. Both waitresses were trying to explain at the same time. And Mollie was weeping violently. At length, he succeeded in holding an excited consultation with the girls, and with him at their head, they marched out into the store in ragged single file. The trio hurriedly argued the case before Mrs. Landsmann, who was standing behind the counter, guarding the cash register. Pretty soon, Mollie cried: “Here he comes now!”
Jimmy Allen entered. He greeted the Landsmanns and the waitresses and then some of his friends, as he passed the store tables. “How about Young Walcott?” called one. “Next Wednesday,” Jimmy returned. “Trainin’ again?” “Yes, I start to-day.” And the young hero penetrated the kitchen and stepped down into the dining room.
Erna was in a disordered state. Some of the customers were endeavoring to pacify her, but she refused their offers. She spied Jimmy and throwing down all caution, hurried over to him. He soon heard enough details.
The young man struck a melodramatic pose. “We’ll clear out o’ this hole,” he exclaimed. She put her hand on his arm, but he shook it off. “Go up-stairs an’ pack your things!”
“But Jimmy—”