When Hawker opened the door he ceased whistling and said gruffly, "Hello!"
"Just the man!" said Grief. "Go after the potato salad, will you, Billie? There's a good boy! Wrinkles has refused."
"He can't carry the salad with those gloves," interrupted Florinda, raising her eyes from her work and contemplating them with displeasure.
"Hang the gloves!" cried Hawker, dragging them from his hands and hurling them at the divan. "What's the matter with you, Splutter?"
Pennoyer said, "My, what a temper you are in, Billie!"
"I am," replied Hawker. "I feel like an Apache. Where do you get this accursed potato salad?"
"In Second Avenue. You know where. At the old place."
"No, I don't!" snapped Hawker.
"Why——"
"Here," said Florinda, "I'll go." She had already rolled down her sleeves and was arraying herself in her hat and jacket.