CHAPTER VI.
IS THE GIRL HONEST?
In a small oyster-house near the Park they found something to eat, and Dick also found that he had saved the life of a remarkably pretty girl.
At any other time Dick Treadwell would have scorned to eat dinner—and such a dinner—at such a place. This night he not only ate, but enjoyed it. He never noticed the uninviting appearance of the big, fat German waiter who had, when they first came in, leaned with both hands on the table and said briefly, and with a rising accent, “Beer?”
He slapped his dirty towel over the sticky circular spots on the table as Richard ordered dinner from a card that looked as if it had never served any other purpose than that of fly-paper.
The waiter went out, after receiving the order, carefully closing the door after him. The room was evidently meant for small parties, for the only thing in it was the table and four chairs.
“Don’t you think the room is too warm?” Dick asked, and hardly waiting for his guest’s reply, he got up and opened wide the door.
The waiter spread a cotton napkin over the table before Dick and Dido Morgan, and set some pickles and crackers, and pepper and salt, and two little bits of butter, the size and shape of a half dollar, on the table; then he brought the clams.
This done he went out again, very carefully closing the door after him. Richard called to him, but he did not answer, so Dick got up and opened the door himself. Dido Morgan looked at him with an innocent, questioning smile. She had no idea that Dick could possibly have any other reason for opening the door, than that it made the room cooler. When the waiter came in the next time he closed the door. Richard’s face flushed angrily as he said sternly:
“I wish that door open. You will please leave it so.”
The waiter gave an impudent, almost familiar grin, but the door was open during the rest of the dinner.