The young man considered for a moment and then said: “Those that got left would have a rare old time.”
“It’s the women as’d get left, seems to me,” replied the barmaid, and scored a point.
“I say, surely you don’t come from this part of the world?” was the compliment evoked by her wit.
“Not me!” was the answer, “I’m a Londoner, I am. Only started yesterday, and sha’n’t stay long if to-day’s a fair sample. There ’asn’t been a dozen customers in all day, and they were in such a ’urry to get their tonic and go that I’m sure they couldn’t ’ave told you whether me ’air was black or ches’nut.”
Both men immediately looked at the crown of pretty fair hair which had been so churlishly slighted.
“First thing I noticed about you,” said one.
The other, who had hardly spoken before, took the cigarette out of his mouth and remarked: “You can never get that colour with peroxide.”
The barmaid looked a little suspicious.
“Oh, he means it all right, kid,” put in the younger man quickly. “Dicky’s one of the serious sort. Besides, he’s in that line; travels for a firm of wholesale chemists.”
Dicky nodded gravely. “I could see at once it was natural,” he remarked with the air of an expert.