He was standing there, drumming on the table with the empty glasses, and only looked up to call out in a most sullen fashion, "Bring wine."
"Sándor!" cried the girl.
But the lad only growled, "I told you to bring wine," and let his head fall back on his hands.
"That is a nice 'good morning' after such a long absence!" exclaimed the girl, at which the herdsman came somewhat to his senses, for he knew how to be polite. Removing his cap and laying it on the table, "Good morning, miss," he said.
"Whew!" The girl pointed the rosy tip of her tongue at him, and shrugging her shoulders angrily, stamped off to the bar, shaking her shoes as she went. When she had brought the wine, however, she asked in an unaltered voice:
"Why do you call me 'miss'?"
"Because . . . . you are 'miss.'"
"I always was, but you never used to say so."
"That was another time, it was different then."
"Well, here is the wine anyway. Do you want anything else?"