Little J. W. crawled out from under Bill's case, his brown eyes wide with surprise at this vagrant who called Jap "son."
"Run like sin," counselled Bill, in a whisper, "and bring your mother. She will know what to do."
While the boy went to do his bidding, Bill slipped out of the rear door of the office and was waiting in front of the bank when Flossy came hurrying along.
"Oh, Bill, what has Jap said?" she asked breathlessly. From J. W.'s lisping description—he always lisped when he was excited—she had come to fear the worst.
"Nothing," said Bill bluntly. "He's sitting at his case, sticking type as if he was hired by the minute."
"And she—that awful woman?"
"Gee!" Bill spat the word. "You don't know anything yet. Wait till you lamp her over."
"That bad, Bill?"
"Worse," muttered Bill. And when Flossy came inside and looked into the little inner office where the woman sprawled, half asleep and muttering incoherently, the fumes of liquor and the presence of filth all too evident, her stomach rebelled and she retreated swiftly. Softly she slipped into the composing room through the wide-open door. Timidly she approached Jap and touched his arm. He looked at her with eyes utterly hopeless.
"Oh, Jap, what can I do!"