There was no gainsaying who was the object of her smiles:––it was Jim Langford and Jim alone, and there was nothing left for either him or Phil to do but to doff their hats and wait the lady’s good pleasure.
She seemed in no hurry to speak.
As Jim gazed at her in surprise, waiting; her fingers––hard, red fingers they were––began to twist a little nervously about the painfully new gloves she carried, and her eyes dropped, looked up, and dropped again.
“Guess you don’t know me!” she ventured at last.
“No! I’m sorry! I can’t remember ever meeting you before,” he answered.
“Ho, ho!” muttered Phil under his breath.
“See you later, Jim!” he said loudly, making to move off.
“Here, you piker! You wait a minute.” Jim grabbed Phil’s coat sleeve.
The young lady’s cheeks began to take on the added attractiveness of a blush.