“Well,” John interrupted, “I’ve never been in these big stores much but this morning while I was trying to get my eye on Grace I saw all those girls stepping round and I thought what a fine looking lot they were! And all busy and right on the job! Now there’s that Miss Kirby—was that the name, Grace?”
“Yes,” Grace answered, strongly inclined to giggle, now that the innocent and well-meaning John had brought Irene to the table.
“You take a girl like that,” said John warming to his work, “moving around like a duchess, and with that way about her that makes you know she’s onto her job! I’ll bet there’s lots of ’em just like her. I say you’ve got to hand it to ’em. I tell you, Mrs. Durland, while we’ve got girls like Miss Kirby and Grace Durland I’ll say America’s safe! Wasn’t it nice, Grace, the way Miss Kirby fixed it for you to get off. You could see she was pleased clear through to have the authority!”
“I don’t think—” began Ethel; but scenting battle, Mrs. Durland rose from the table.
“You and Mr. Moore go into the parlor, Grace. Ethel and I will straighten up out here.”
“Not on your tin-type!” John protested. “I just love to dry dishes. You just let me take a hand. I’ll pay for every plate I smash!”
As he refused to be denied Grace found an apron for him and they made merry over the dishwashing.
While they were in the midst of it Ethel came to the door to say that Grace was wanted on the telephone. Ethel’s manner of conveying the information prepared Grace for Irene’s voice.
“Can you talk a minute? I had a telegram from some friends of ours this afternoon. They wanted to be remembered to you; that’s all. I think your particular friend will stop on his way east. Tell me, did you get in bad?”
“Oh, it’s all right now,” Grace replied. “I’ve got company and we mustn’t talk.”