“How do you mean, spent it?”
“Why, he’d give this one or that one a yellowback to buy a new hat, say,—and then the others would tease for new hats. And maybe, if he didn’t have the kale, he’d give ’em checks, or he’d tell ’em they could have the hat or the scarf or whatever charged to him. But he was strict. He told each one the limit she should pay, and if she paid more, they couldn’t be friends any more. It was a queer mix-up, but all friendly and decent. He was just like a big frolicsome boy, and the girlies were like soft little kittens, playful,—but, kittens can scratch.”
“And they did?”
“Yes, there was more real ill nature shown last night than ever before. Sir Herbert wasn’t as generous as usual; I daresay he’s tired of the game,—anyway, they couldn’t bamboozle him to more than little trinkets, and I think Viola was out for furs. And furs mean money. But he only smiled when she hinted and she spoke more plainly, and then when he didn’t agree she got mad.”
“You seem to know all about it.”
“Couldn’t help knowing. They took no pains to be quiet, and I was around most of the time, and finally I became interested to see how it would come out.”
“And how did it?”
“They all went off together,—I mean the girls did. He bundled ’em into a taxicab, gave the driver a bill and said good-night. That’s the way he always does. He never escorts ’em home. Then he came back in here, settled his account, lit a cigar and strolled off by himself.”
“At what time was this?”
“Abut one, or a little before. Not very late. Sir Herbert’s no villain. I read him like a book. He just liked to see those girls enjoy a good supper, same’s he liked to see ’em dance on the stage. Anyway, there’s the history of the evening, so far as I know anything about it.”