Captain Ira
Ball. He's her husband," explained Tunis jerkily.
"Oh, really? Mr. Judson is coming this way." She flirted open a card
of cheap lace lying on the counter. "Won't this do, sir?"
"Cat's foot! I don't want any lace," growled the captain of the
_Seamew_.
"And I don't want to lose my job," rejoined the girl sharply.
"Where'll I meet you so we can talk?"
"At twelve forty-five," hissed the girl out of the corner of her
mouth, beginning to wind up the lace again. "Back entrance to the
store." Then, aloud: "Sorry, sir. We haven't any cheaper quality in
that pattern."
He knew she was ridiculing him. He was cognizant, however, of the
department head's hard stare and the amused glances of the other
saleswomen. He strode out of the store, and on the sidewalk halted
to mop his face and neck with a blue-bordered handkerchief.
"She's as sassy as a chipmunk. I declare! What would Cap'n Ira and
Aunt Prue do with a girl like her around the house? And the way
she's dressed!"
In his mind the idea germinated that he would be doing a far better
thing if he did not go around to the employees' door and wait for
Ida May Bostwick. What sort of life would she lead the two old
people down there on Wreckers' Head? He actually shrank from being a
party to such an arrangement.
Pages:
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72