With the lunch rush over, Kelly sneaked around my entrance and jerked his head sidewise. That meant, naturally, that I was to approach and harken unto what he had to say. When Kelly imparted secrets—and much of what Kelly had to impart was that sort of information where he felt called upon to gaze about furtively to make sure no one was over-hearing—when he had matters of weight then to impart he talked down in his boots and a bit out of the corner of his mouth.
“Say, kid”—Kelly jerked his head—“want to tell you about this eatin' business. Y'know, ain't no one supposed to eat nothin' on this floor. If the boss catches ya, it's good-by dolly. Sign up over the door sayin' you'll be dismissed at once if you eat anything—see? But I'm givin' ya a little tip—see? I don't care how much ya eat—it's nothin' to me. I say eat all ya got a mind to. Only for Gawd's sake don't let the Big Boss catch ya.” (The Big Boss was the little chief steward, who drew down a fabulous salary and had the whole place scared to death.) “See—pull a cracker box out so and put what ya got to eat behind it this way, then ya can sit down and sorta take your time at it. If the boss does come by—it's behind the cracker box and you should worry! Have a cup of coffee?”
I was full up of coffee from my gentleman friend across the way, so declined Kelly's assistance in obtaining more. Every day, about 2.30, Kelly got in a certain more or less secluded corner of my compartment and ate a bit himself. “Been almost fired a couple of times for doin' this—this place is full o' squealers—gotta watch out all the time. Hell of a life I say when a fella has to sneak around to eat a bit of food.”
That second afternoon, Kelly stopped in the middle of a gulp of coffee.
“Say, w'at t' hell's a girl like you workin' for, anyhow? Say, don't you know you could get married easy as—my Gawd! too easy. Say, you could pick up with one of these waiters just like that! They're good steady fellas, make decent pay. You could do much worse than marry a waiter. I'm tellin' ya there's no sense to a girl like you workin'.”
That was an obsession with Kelly. He drilled it into me daily. Kelly himself was a settled married man. Of his state we talked often. I asked Kelly the very first day if he ever went to Coney Island.
“Ustta—'ain't been for ten years.”
“Why not for ten years?”
Kelly looked at me out of the corner of his eyes. “Got married ten years ago.”