“What will you have next?” Milly asked politely, as the waiter removed their plates.
“Whatever you take, Miss,” the girl replied. “I ain’t particular. I guess anything here’s good enough for me.”
“I declare I don’t feel as if I could worry down another morsel,” Milly answered. “There is nothing so surfeiting as green turtle. It makes me almost sick to think of crabs or birds, or even shrimp salad. Let’s skip all that, and take the desert. Waiter, bring us two ices. Which flavor do you prefer?” she asked of the pencil vender, and again the bewildered girl left the choice to her hostess.
“Strawberry, mousse, and chocolate are too cloying,” Milly remarked meditatively. “Bring us lemon water ice and pistache. Don’t you just dote on pistache?”
“I never ate any, Miss.”
“Then I shall have the pleasure of introducing you to something new. You’ll be sure to like it.”
The girl did like it. She ate every morsel. Possibly something more solid would have proved as satisfying, but Milly was pleased with her evident appreciation.
“Why don’t you eat the macaroons? Don’t you like them? Would you rather have kisses?”
“If you please Miss, might I take them home to the children?”
“Yes, I suppose so. It isn’t exactly good form to put things in your pocket, but they will be charged for just the same, even if we leave them, so take them, quick, now that the waiter is not looking.”