"I'll have her sent into my private office," suggests Mr. Robert.
And once more I was lookin' for some startled motions from Ruby when she discovers Mr. Mills. But in she comes, as woodeny and stiff as ever, goes to her little table, and spreads out her notebook, without glancin' at any of us.
"Pardon me, Miss Everschott," says Mr. Robert, "but—er—my friend Mills here fancies that he—er—ah—oh, hang it all! you say it, Oakley."
At which Mr. Mills steps up smilin'. I should judge he was a fairly smooth, high-polished gent as a rule; but after Ruby has turned that stupid, stary look on him, without battin' an eyelash or liftin' an eyebrow, the smile fades out. She don't say a word or make a move: just continues to stare. As for Oakley, he shifts uneasy on his feet and flushes up under the eyes.
"Well?" says he. "I trust you remember me?"
Ruby shakes her head slow. "No, Sir," says she.
"Eh?" says Oakley. "Weren't you a waitress at the Lakeside Hotel last summer?"
"Certainly, Sir," says Ruby.
"And didn't you bring me my meals three times a day for four mortal weeks?" he insists.
"Did I?" says Ruby, starin' stupider than ever.