"Late, Sally," said the cook, tossing another hot cake on the growing pile which surmounted the warmer.
"Sure; I busted my mirror," said Sally.
The cook stared at her in such astonishment that he allowed a quantity of dough to fall from the dish cupped in the hollow of his arm; it overflowed the griddle-iron.
"Blockhead!" shouted Sally. "Watch your step!"
She resumed, when the dough had been rescued by somewhat questionable means: "D'you think a girl can dress in the dark?"
But the cook had had too much experience with his employer to press what seemed a tender point. He confined his attention to the pancakes.
"There ain't no fool worse than a he-fool," continued Sally bitterly.
"Which maybe you think a girl can dress without a mirror?"
Since this taunt brought no response from her victim, she went on into the eating-room. It was already filling, and the duties of her strenuous day began.
They continued without interruption hour after hour, for the popularity of her restaurant had driven all competition out of Eldara, a result which filled the pocket-book and fattened the bank account of Sally Fortune, but loaded unnumbered burdens onto her strong shoulders. For she could not hire a waiter to take her place; every man who came into the eating-room expected to be served by the slim hands of Sally herself, and he expected also some trifling repartee which would make him pay his bill with a grin.
The repartee dragged with Sally to-day, almost to sullenness, and when she began to grow weary in the early afternoon, there was no reserve strength on which she could fall back. She suddenly became aware that she wanted support, aid, comfort. Finally she spilled a great armful of "empties" down on the long drain-board of the sink, turned to the wall, and buried her face in her hands. The cook, Bert, though he cast a startled glance at her would not have dared to speak, after that encounter of the morning, but a rather explosive sniff was too eloquent an appeal to his manliness.