As he ate his dessert, to his surprise the waitress lingering beside his chair opened her lips and spoke.
“I remember you folks real well,” she said. “I was in your stage when you come on from Mammoth.”
Irving glanced up, and as her words reached his abstracted consciousness, he looked suddenly interested.
“You were with Miss Vincent, then,” he replied.
“M’hm,” admitted Miss Hickey with elegant ease. “I seen her yesterday,” she added, as the young man did not press the matter. “She’s quit.”
“You saw her yesterday?” he repeated eagerly. “How was she?”
“Oh-ho!” ejaculated Miss Hickey, mentally. “You take notice, do you?”
“Perter’n a chipmunk,” she returned aloud. “Say,” meeting Irving’s uplifted gaze, “is that gent with the bum ear, the deef gent, I mean,—is he on the level?”
“Why—certainly. Did—did Miss Vincent—”