"Oo-aw!" said Miss Stella, fanning herself and rising at length, a little unsteadily, from behind her emptied glass and coffee-cup; "I feel like a breath of fresh air."
"You don't look like a breath o' fresh air," chortled her drinking companion; "you look like t-ten cents' worth o' tough luck, Stel. Get on your hat, an' I'll walk you 'round the block, little one."
With this, the two passed into the front room. Daisy thought they were joking about going out, till she heard the hall-door slam behind them. Then she jumped up.
"Wh-why—have they gone?" she said.
"They sure have," said Mr. Cluett, leaning back lazily in his chair; "but we should worry."
"Will they be long?" said Daisy.
"Search me," responded Nick Cluett; "They may go to a picture-show. Maybe they'll slip into a vaudeville show. We don't care—eh?"
Daisy looked out into the empty front room of the suite. A gramophone on a small table met her eyes.
"Let's put on some music," she said.