“Urf!” gasped the victim of these maneuvers. He bent a look upon Darcy which was a curious blend of wonder, skepticism, and respect. “Say,” he said, “you couldn’t use a job in the trucking department, maybe?” Then, recovering himself, he growled: “What was that you said about thirty dollars?”
The growl had no effect. Darcy’s confidence had been stiffened by the little interlude of the chair.
“My prices have gone up,” she informed him.
“The devil they have! Beg y’ pardon, Miss Watchemame—”
“My name is Cole.”
“Miss Cole. Look-a-here, now; d’ you think your work is worth ten dollars more than it has been?”
“Put it this way; I think you’ve been paying me ten dollars too little. Don’t you?”
At bottom Mr. Riegel was a fair-minded as well as a shrewd person. Moreover, he had been tremendously impressed by the unsuspected physical prowess of this queer specimen. To catch him in mid-flight and reëstablish his equilibrium had required no mean quality of muscle. Yet this sloppy-looking girl had done it without turning a hair! And now she was striking him for a raise. He laughed aloud.
“That ain’t the point,” said he. “I don’t; but some of my competitors might. Lessay twenty-five for the next half-dozen: after that, thirty, and this one goes, as is.”
“Right!” said Darcy, composedly.