Kedzie did not know what his dialect meant at first. When she learned that “woikin'” was the same as “wurrkin”' she confessed that she had no job. She trembled lest he should recognize her from the paper. He eyed her narrowly and tried to flirt with her across the very head-lines that told who she was.
She could not be sure that he did not know her. He might be a detective in disguise looking for a reward.
Skip had been reading about Kedzie when she came in. But he never dreamed that she was she. He befriended her, however, out of the goodness of his heart and the desire to retain her in the neighborhood—also out of respect for the good old brass rule, “Do good unto others now, so that they will do good to you later.”
Slap told Kedzie that he knew a place right near where a goil was wanted. When he told her that it was a candy-store she was elated. A candy-store was her idea of a good place to work.
Skip told Kedzie where to go and what to say, and to mention that Skip sent her.
Skip also recommended lodgings next his own in the flat of Mr. and Mrs. Rietzvoller, delicatessen merchants.
“Nice rooms reasonable,” he said, “and I'll be near to look after you.”
“You're awful fresh, seems to me, on short acquaintance,” was Kedzie's stinging rebuke.
Skip laughed. “Didn't you see the special-delivery stamp on me forehead? But I guess you're a goil can take care yourself.”
Kedzie guessed she was. But she was in need of help. Where else could she turn? Whom else had she for a beau in this multitude of strangers? So she laughed encouragingly.