Bean continued his work, thinking as best he could above the words of Breede, that she must be a pretty raw old party, going around, voting, smashing windows, leading her innocent young grandchild into the same reckless life. Nice thing, that! He was not surprised when he heard a match lighted a moment later, and knew that Grandma was smoking a cigarette. Expect anything of that sort!
He had wished they would go before he finished the last letter, but they sat on, and Grandma filled the room with smoke.
"Now he's through!" proclaimed the flapper.
"How old are you?" asked Grandma, as Bean arose nervously from the machine.
He tried jauntily to make it appear that he must "count up."
"Let me see. I'm—twenty-three last Tuesday."
The old lady nodded approvingly, as if this were something to his credit.
"Got any vicious habits?"
Bean weakly began an answer intended to be facetious, and yet leave much to be inferred regarding his habits. But the Demon would have none of this.
"Smoke?"