“No fear,” I says. “You won’t never hear Hatch kickin’ about anybody quittin’, so long as they quit behind.”
We all moved to the dinin’ room table. Two chairs was brought in from the parlor and one from the kitchen, so’s none o’ the guests would have to stand. Proceedin’s was delayed while Cutie examined the wall paper and furniture.
“I think your apartment is dear!” she says.
“Thirty-five a month,” says I.
“Is that all!” she says. “Why, I and old honey boy could pretty near afford that.”
“But then you’d be left alone all day,” I says.
“Mother’d come over and stay with me,” she says; “and then, when it was time for old sweetheart to get back from the horrid old office, I’d send mother away so’s I could be alone with him.” She giggled some more.
“What are you laughin’ at?” I says. “I’m alone with him pretty near an hour every day and it’s no joke.”
“I’m afraid you’re a tease,” she says, and laughed so hard that she had to set down.
Hatch was passin’ out the checks.
“The usual number, eh?” he says.
“How many do you generally take?” ast Quinn.
“Twenty apiece; two dollars’ worth,” says Hatch.
“Mercy!” says Mrs. Quinn. “We don’t want that many. Dearie,” she says to her husband, “let’s just take twenty between us.”