The young man’s eyes gleamed with benevolence. The prescription, he said, tapping the glass, was in here.
Do you mean to say I’ve drunk it? she screamed. But it wasn’t for me; it was for my little brother! And she swept from the drug store.
It’s too bad, sighed the young man, and she was one of our best customers!
But she isn’t any more. Daily the soda fountain young man watches her enter the drug store across the way, where they look before they leap.
An employer, noted for his energy and lack of tolerance for loafing in any form, visited his stock room and found a boy leaning idly against a packing case, whistling cheerily, and with nothing at all on his mind. The chief stopped and stared. Such a thing was unheard of in his establishment.
How much are you getting a week? he demanded, with characteristic abruptness.
Twelve dollars.
Here’s your twelve. Now get out. You’re through.