"Not without a prescription, sir," he said, with a grimace. "Temperance—oh, my God!—horrible temperance—don't ask me—don't—— I've got a little bottle upstairs. It's got a linament label on it, but it's all right—Old Crow."
"Never mind," laughed Tod, "I'll wait till I get to the hotel."
The old man turned to go. Suddenly he stopped, and hesitatingly he said:
"Please, sir—how's the old spot——"
"What old spot?" demanded Tod.
"Why, Twenty-sixth and Broadway—Del's——"
"Oh, it's moved uptown long ago. It's Forty-fourth and Fifth Avenue now."
"Oh, yes— I forgot— Charley's dead, too, isn't he? Ah, times change. You know, I miss the music—and the lights—the low-neck dresses and the popping of corks, but I'll tell you a funny thing, sir. The guests act more human-like here. Yes, they're more human. They don't blame one for everything. If the cooking goes wrong they roast the cook, and when they get their bills the cashier gets hell—not me. This place isn't as black as it's painted. The only thing is, when they drink champagne at Christmas and New Years they drink it out of tumblers. That's bad, isn't it—that's awful bad!"
Shaking his head, he toddled out of the office.
Tod took out a cigarette and lighted it. His mother had been gone a long time. He wondered what was keeping her and what Paula said to her. Suddenly the ward door opened and Mrs. Marsh reappeared, her manner greatly agitated.