"I know," says he, smoothin' one hand over his bald spot. "Anything else to-day?"
There's just a hint of an amused flicker behind the glasses that makes Aunty glare at him suspicious for a second. "No," says she. "Put all those things in two stout bags and tie them carefully."
"Yes, Madam," says Woodie.
He was doin' it too, when the other clerk steps up, salutes him polite, and says: "You're wanted at the telephone, Sir."
"Tell them to hold the wire," says Woodie.
We was still tryin' to dope that out when a big limousine rolls up in front of the store, out hops a footman in livery, walks in to Woodie with his cap in his hand, and holds out a bunch of telegrams.
"From the office, Sir," says he.
"Wait," says Woodie, wavin' him one side.
Now was them any proper motions for a grocery clerk to be goin' through? I leave it to you. Vee is watchin' with her nose wrinkled up, like she always does when anything stumps her; and me, I was just starin' open-faced and foolish. I couldn't get the connection at all. But Aunty ain't one to stand gaspin' over a mystery while her tongue's still workin'.
"Whose car is that?" she demands.