She said, “Hazel’s not here today.”
Serle frowned. “Her day off?” he asked.
The waitress shook her head.
“Well, where is she?” Serle demanded.
“I don’t know. I guess she’s gone. It was her morning to open up. She didn’t show, and the boss got sore. I wasn’t supposed to come on until eleven, and he got me up out of my beauty sleep. He telephoned Hazel’s rooming house, and they said she’d left before midnight last night, took a suitcase with her, and beat it.”
“Beat it?” Serle echoed.
“Uh-huh — and her room rent’s paid up until the first, and today’s payday. She has a week’s wages coming — fat chance she stands of getting them now. What’s your order?”
“Lunch,” Serle said shortly.
Placing silverware, a butter dish, and a glass of water before Serle, she glanced at the place which had been set in front of Mason at the table, and asked, “How about you? Ready to give your order now?”
Mason nodded. She handed him a menu, and Serle said, “If you want some good eats, just order lunch.”