Soon the waiter appeared. Pyramided upon his towel-draped left arm were numerous plates and platters, topped by a huge cup of inky coffee that steamed as it washed gently from side to side with every sway of the arm. As the order was placed upon the table, together with some cutlery, which the waiter scattered with his right hand, Blandy picked up a knife and fork, pulled a platter into place before him, and began to eat, ravenously. Someone—a man—entered the front door and took a seat behind the cash-register. Blandy did not look up. One by one the platters and plates were emptied. At last, refreshed and satisfied, Blandy picked up an orange and began to peel it leisurely.
It was now that for the first time he chanced to look across at the man behind the counter. That glance brought him to his feet, the half-peeled orange in his hand. “Harvey Patton!” he exclaimed in amazement.
“How are you?” answered Patton, indifferently. The tip of his nose moved up and down a little as he spoke.
Blandy strode toward the counter. “What under the shinin’ sun are you doin’ back in Searles?” he demanded.
“Keeping restaurant.”
The other was silent for a moment, his astonished eyes still fixed upon Patton. Then, “Where’s—Polly?” he asked.
Patton jerked his head sidewise toward the kitchen. “She’s doing the cooking,” he explained, smiling.
Blandy’s staring eyes narrowed. He turned abruptly, crossed the room to the swinging door and struck it out of the way before him.
Just within the kitchen, he halted. It was a small room, reeking with smells, and suffocatingly hot. On the side farthest from Blandy was a sink. And bending over the sink, with her back to him, was a girl. As he looked at her, the red on his face slowly deepened, as if he were holding his breath. After a while, his glance travelled to the stove, upon which some pots were steaming; to the long kitchen table piled high with unwashed dishes; to the heaping oil can of scraps at the foot of the table; to the floor, spattered and unswept. When at last his look went back to the girl, the hairy skin at either side of his mouth was twitching with the effort of self-control.
“Polly!”