To Josie's credit it must be admitted that she made a brave attempt to drink. But the mixture was undoubtedly flat, stale and unprofitable. She sighed, put it back on the counter, and rose to the emergency.
"Mine's perfectly lovely"—with a ravishing smile—"but it's not very sweet."
"I made them dry for you—thought you'd like 'em that way," he stammered. "Perhaps you'd like 'em better if I put a collar on 'em?"
The chorus negatived this suggestion very promptly.
"Why don't you try a glass, Mr. Duncan?" Angie added with malice.
"I'm on the wagon—I mean, I don't drink at all," he said wretchedly; and was deeply grateful for the diversion afforded by the entrance of a third customer.
It was Tracey Tanner, as usual swollen with important tidings, as usual propelling himself through the world at a heavy trot. It has always been a source of wonderment to me how Tracey manages to keep so stout with all the violent exercise he takes.
"Say, Angle," he twanged at sight of her, "I've been lookin' for you everywhere. Did you hear that——"
He stopped instantaneously with open mouth as he saw Duncan behind the counter; and openmouthed he remained while the young man came round and advanced toward him, with a bland smirk accompanied by a professional bow and rubbing of hands.
"May I have the pleasure of serving you, Mr. Tanner?"