“For Heaven's sake, Pete,” she went on languidly, “can't you scare up a novel, or chocolates, or gum, or—ANYTHING to kill time? I'd even enjoy chewing gum right now—it would give my jaws something to think of, anyway.”
Pete, grinning indulgently, came out of retirement behind the pigeonholes, and looked inquiringly around the store.
“I've got cards,” he suggested. “What's the matter with a game of solitary? I've known men to put in hull winters alone, up in the mountains, jest eating and sleeping and playin' solitary.”
The young woman made a grimace of disgust. “I've come from three solid hours of it. What I really do want is something to read. Haven't you even got an almanac?”
“Saunders is readin' 'The Brokenhearted Bride'—you can have it soon's he's through. He says it's a peach.”
“Fifteen is bringing up a bunch of magazines. I'll have reading in plenty two hours from now; but my heavens above, those two hours!” She struck both fists despairingly upon the counter.
“I've got gumdrops, and fancy mixed—”
“Forget it, then. A five-pound box of chocolates is due—on fifteen.” She sighed heavily. “I wish you weren't so old, and hadn't quite so many chins, Pete,” she complained. “I'd inveigle you into a flirtation. You see how desperate I am for something to do!”
Pete smiled unhappily. He was sensitive about all those chins, and the general bulk which accompanied them.
“Let me make you acquainted with my friend, Good In—er—Mr. Imsen.” Pete considered that he was behaving with great discernment and tact. “This is Miss Georgie Howard, the new operator.” He twinkled his little eyes at her maliciously. “Say, he ain't got but one chin, and he's only twenty-three years old.” He felt that the inference was too plain to be ignored.