“What do you think of that, girls! He’s got another door. We won’t so much as get a squint at blondie.”
“That settles it, we’ve got to go in and face the music,” said the consumptive, “and if he insults us, we must smile and put up with it, of course. If we yell, he’ll call in an officer and have us arrested for blackmail.”
The words were hardly out of her mouth before the private door opened, and a flashily-dressed man of about fifty years came out, twirling the ends of an enormous mustache.
There was not a sound from the girls as he looked them over, although they each posed involuntarily and tried to look attractive.
Suddenly his eye fell on Dollie, and he stared in amazement. The girl’s fresh beauty astonished him, it was so entirely unexpected.
“Ahem! You will please step this way,” he said to her at once, at the same time indicating by a wave of his hand that she was to enter his private office.
“I was here first,” said one of the girls, shrilly.
“I’ve been here an hour,” said another, wearily.
“I will attend to you all in a few moments,” said the man, pompously, as he stepped into the office behind Dollie and closed the door after them.