"I'd like to see you as soon as possible, Tom.—Yes, it's important.—All right. I'll be right down."
Somewhat in advance of Silvanus Rock's breakfast hour, Mr. Dupont entered the White Front Restaurant at Port Angeles and made his way toward his accustomed table in the sunlit alcove. His favorite waitress pulled out his chair and handed him his morning paper with a smile.
"I have a special for you this morning," she announced, "which will make your mouth water."
Mr. Dupont smacked his lips with boyish enthusiasm. "What is it?" he inquired.
"Corn-fed mackerel from the new Service Market which opened yesterday."
Mr. Dupont raised his eyebrows inquiringly, and the girl explained:
"A lot of service men have started a fish stall in a corner of the old California Market around the block from here. They just put in a few yesterday but from the way they sold out, I'd say they'd need the whole building before long. Our manager got around just in time to pick up the last of yesterday's catch. I saved one of them for you."
While the girl attended to his order, the resident manager of Winfield & Camby turned his attention to his paper. When the waitress returned with the
crisply browned fish, she was obliged to speak twice before she was able to gain Mr. Dupont's attention.
Hovering about his chair, she watched her patron nibble at the carefully-prepared delicacy with his eyes fixed intently upon his newspaper. The dimples disappeared quickly from the girl's face as she noted that the mackerel were growing cold. Then she turned from the table with a sigh. Men did not care what they ate as long as they had their paper.