"Why," Scharley said, drawing vigorously on his imagination, "he says to me what a bright young feller he is and——"
Here he reflected that in a highly competitive trade like the cloak and suit business this statement sounded a trifle exaggerated.
"And," he went on hurriedly, "he told me how he saw you and him with Mrs. Lesengeld up at the hotel the other evening, and I says, 'What,' I says, 'you don't mean Mrs. Lesengeld whose husband used to was in the pants business?' and he said he didn't know, 'because,' I says, 'if that's the same party,' I says, 'I would like for her to come up to the hotel and take dinner with me some time,' I says."
He smiled cordially at Mrs. Lesengeld.
"And I hope you will," he concluded earnestly, "to-morrow night sure."
Mrs. Lesengeld shook her head.
"I ain't fixed to go to no swell hotel," she demurred. "I ain't got no clothes nor nothing."
"What do you care about clothes, Mrs. Lesengeld?" Scharley protested.
"And besides," Yetta said with sudden inspiration, "we could get up a little chafing-dish dinner in our room, ain't it?"
"For that matter we could do it in my room," Scharley cried, as there sounded a vigorous knocking on the outside of the door leading to the veranda, and a moment later Williams entered.