Julia had finished the chicken and was crunching the bones between her strong white teeth. The last of the tired-looking girls stood up, put her foot on a chair, and ran her arm, elbow deep, into her stocking. She came up with a small roll of bills which she threw across the table to the madam, sullenly. “Thank the Lord that’s over,” she said, and went out.

The madam counted the money carefully, bent over, and put both her arms under the table; when she straightened up the money had disappeared.

Julia chattered away and ate everything in sight. She wanted to know if I had ever lived in the country, if I could ride a horse, if I had ever caught a fish, if I could “shoot off a revolver.”

The dinner was over and I was thinking about my milk bill. After this wonderful hour I hesitated about presenting it to the madam. She may have seen what was in my mind, for she said, “Julia, you have talked so much to this boy that he has forgotten what he came here for.”