"You mean to tell me that I'm drunk." Joe's manner had lost its suavity. His eyes flashed as he regarded her.
"No, Joe, you're not drunk, but you've been drinking and you're not yourself. And I know by to-morrow you'll feel awfully sorry if you have carried a lot of rubbish into your dear little home."
For a moment Joe wavered between amiability and anger. His masculine pride was touched by the implication that he did not know his own mind, and alcohol had quickened his propensity to take offense. But on the other hand, there was something disarming in the way Peggy spoke of his wife and his home, and her smile was appealing. Mrs. Vanderpool had counted on her winning way and it was as effective as she had hoped, though Peggy did not apply it exactly as she had expected of her.
After a moment's hesitation, Joe capitulated. "I guess you're right, Miss Peggy. When a fellow's had a few drinks, most anything looks like a bargain. Guess this is a lot of junk."
"There's nothing here that you and Elvira want, I'm sure of that, Joe."
"Good-by, Miss Peggy."
"Good-by, Joe. Tell Elvira I'll be over to see her very soon."
Peggy drew a breath of relief when she saw Joe leave the building. But her congratulatory mood was not to last. For not long after Joe's departure, she became aware of Mrs. Vanderpool at her elbow.
"Well, you had a profitable customer at last," smiled the lady. "Wanted to buy you out, didn't he?"
The possibility of evasion did not occur to Peggy. She lifted her frank eyes. "He talked about buying a lot of useless things," she answered, "but of course I wouldn't let him. You see, he'd been drinking and he didn't really know what he wanted. And besides, I know his wife."