"Do you mind staking me for a little breakfast?" asked Hickey meekly. "I'll take it outside if it's all the same to you. I'd sooner face a she-tiger than brace Bessie between meals."
"All right, jump in, and I'll drop you at the first lunch-room."
In half an hour Greg was back at the yard with his baggage. In the meantime Hickey, following his instructions, had engaged a room by the week from Bessie in their joint interest, and was even now snoring on the bed. Greg carried his things up, and opening his bags proceeded to array himself with particular care. He was bound to remove the impression of a snuffy owl driver that he must have made on a certain party. He sighed with satisfaction at the comfortable feel of his own clothes.
When he was dressed he remorselessly woke Hickey and dragged him to his feet. Hickey assumed the driver's cap and coat that he had discarded. When they passed through Bessie's kitchen on the way out that worthy soul opened her eyes very wide indeed at the sight of the figure of elegance Greg was making. She came to a stand and planted her hands aggressively on her hips. Clearly, fine clothes were associated in her simple mind with questionable conduct. Greg's gloves confirmed her worst suspicions.
"I'll be back in time for dinner," said Greg airily. "I'm not going to let you off those spare-ribs."
Bessie pursed up her lips. "My poor kitchen ain't fitting to serve the likes of you," she said.
"Don't be sore just because I've put on my sporting rags," said Greg. "Need 'em in my business."
"Fine business, I daresay," said Bessie, sniffing.
"I see you think I'm a confidence man at the least," said Greg. "When I come back I'll tell you the whole story while we eat. I want your good will."
"Well, I won't express an opinion on it till I hear it," said Bessie tossing her head. Nevertheless Greg saw that she was pleased.