Sniffins turned quickly.
“Hello, old stager, where did you come from?”
Charles paid no more attention to him than he would have paid to a stray dog—not as much.
“Will you please remain at the counter a few moments, Charles. When your sister returns she may call here to see me, Mr. Sniffins. Good-morning.” And without another glance at the man Constance walked quickly away from the counter, and down to the ’phone booth, where she called a number. Sniffins’ eyes followed her. When she disappeared he turned to Charles and, with an unpleasant sneer, remarked: “Workin’ for her livin’ an’ tryin’ ter play the big-bug, too, ain’t she?”
“Does yo’ wish fer ter purchase some of dis hyer candy, sah?” asked Charles, icily.
“No, I don’t, an’ if I did I ain’t takin’ it from niggers.”
“No, sah, I don’ reckon yo’ is, kase—Mor’in’, Massa Po’tah, I’se right glad fer ter see a gemmen, sah. Dey’s mighty skurse sometimes. How kin I sarve yo’, sah?”
“Morning, Charles. Where is my little girl this morning? Gone to the telephone booth? Be back pretty quick, won’t she? I want to speak to her a moment.”
“She’ll return, sah, when de air’s better fer her ter breve; it got sort o’ foul-like, an’ if you’se no objections I’se gwine raise de winder jist a trifle.”
“Do, by all means. Must keep the air pure and sweet for that little lady.”