"This joker," cried Sally, "will take a ticket if something wins a Lincoln, and he doesn't know which." She stood in the doorway, her arms akimbo. "People are very busy here," she snarled, when a woman tried to pass.
"I beg your pardon," said the ex-chorus girl.
"And a good thing too," said Sally. "You are one of the busy ones, just got your salary for shoving, I suppose." There was no competing with Sally's tongue, and the girl passed without replying.
This queen of song was attired in a flowery gown of pale green, and she wore a large hat lavishly trimmed with wild flowers; she moved slowly, conscious of her importance and fame.
But at that moment a man in a check suit said, doffing his cap, "Very pleased to see you here, Miss Slater."
Sally looked him over. "Well, I can't help that."
"I was at your benefit. Mr. Jackson was there, and he introduced me to you after the performance."
"No, I'm sure he didn't."
"I beg your pardon, Miss Slater. Don't you remember when Peggy Praed got on the table and made a speech?"
"No, I don't; you saw me on the stage and you paid your money for that. What more do you want?"