Rosalie looked slowly around at her, her golden-brown veil pushed up from her face.
“Miss Hickey,” she said softly.
“Goodness, Baby! You!”
The waitress’s eyes stared and snapped; but business pressed, and it was not until the end of the meal, when Rosalie lingered for the purpose, that Miss Hickey had opportunity to slake her burning thirst for information.
“Been fired?” she asked sympathetically.
“No, I left.”
“Struck a gold mine? How are you goin’ to pay your way back?”
“Some friends are sending me back.”
Miss Hickey eyed her scrutinizingly. “You look as happy as if you’d lost twenty-five cents, and found ten dollars.”
“I am happy. Oh, Miss Hickey, I’m so happy!”