"Jim isn't inside," he returned. "You're drunk."
"I say, Old Flick," said Milly, "I never saw you blush. Tell the truth for once, and set your face on fire."
Old Flick looked venomously at the girl, but she only laughed at him in return.
"Go in, and tell Jim I want to speak to him," she said.
"I have told you he isn't there."
"All right. Then I'll sit here and wait for him;" and she sat down on the pavement in front of the store. Old Flick was in despair. He glared at her, and swore at her.
"Get up, you she-devil!" he quavered, in a voice shaking with passion.
"I shan't. If you call me names, I'll pull your whiskers out."
"Go away, Milly," said Old Flick, coaxingly; "go away, there's a dear! You'll have the peelers on you, and if Jim hears you--"
"Oh, he is in there, is he!" exclaimed Milly, rising to her feet.