“But isn’t she the nicest person?” Fox will say, in a low and earnest whisper.
And they will stare at him in blank amazement. That girl! That little tough, gold-digging, hard-boiled—oh, well, what’s the use? They give it up! Rather than shatter the illusions and wound the innocence of this trusting child, they’ll hold their tongues and leave him to his dream.
And she, the little hard-boiled hat-check girl, in a hoarse, confiding tone to the other hat-check girl, excitedly: “Say! Do you know that guy that comes in here every day for lunch—the queer one that always orders guinea-hen—an’ that didn’t usta wanna let us have his hat at all?”
The other, nodding: “Sure, I know! He usta try to wear it w’ile he’s eatin’! You awmost had to throw ‘im down an’ take it from ‘im befoeh he’d letcha have it.”
She, rapidly, nodding: “Yeah! That’s him!” Then, lowering her voice to an excited whisper: “Well, y’know, he’s been givin’ me a dollah tip every day for the last mont’!”
The other, staring, stunned: “G’wan!”
She: “Honest t’ Gawd!”
The other: “Has he made any passes atcha yet?—any wisecracks?—any funny tawk?”
She, with a puzzled look in her eye: “That’s the funny paht of it—I can’t make ‘im out! He ‘tawks funny awright—but—he don’t mean what I thought he did. The first time he said somethin’ I thought he was goin’ t’ be fresh. He comes up t’ get his hat one day, an’ stands lookin’ at me with that funny look until I got the willies. So I says: ‘So what!’ ‘Married?’ he says—just like that. Just stands lookin’ at me an’ says: ‘Married?’”
The other: “Gee! That was fresh!” Eagerly: “Well, go on—w’atcha say to ‘im? W’atcha tell ‘im?”
She: “Well, I says to myse’f: ‘Oh, ho! I knew this was comin’! This dollah-a-day stuff can’t keep up for ever! Well,’ I thinks, ‘you can’t hang onto a good thing all yoeh life!’—so I decides to let ‘im have it befoeh he has the chanct to staht gettin’ funny. So I lies to ‘im: ‘Surer I says, an’ looks ‘im right in the eye—‘I’m good an’ married! Ain’t you?‘ I thought that ought to hold ‘im.”
The other: “An’ w’at did he say t’ that?”
She: “He just stood lookin’ at me with that funny look. Then he shook his head at me—as if I’d done somep’n—as if it was my fault—as if he was disgusted wit’ me. ‘Yes,’ he says, an’ gets his hat, an’ leaves his dollah, an’ walks out. Tie that one down! Well, I gets to thinkin’ it oveh, an’ I figure that next day he’s goin’ t’ spring itstaht givin’ me the old oil about how his wife don’t undehstand ‘im, or how he’s not livin’ wit’ her an’ how lonesome he is—an’ how about it?—can’t we get togetheh some night for dinneh?”
And number two, rapt: “So w’at happens?”
And she: “When he comes to get his hat next day he just stands there lookin’ at me for a long time in that funny way of his that used to get me noivous—as if I’d done somep’n—so I says again: ‘So what?’ An’ he says in that funny voice—it’s so low sometimes you can’t handly hear it—he says: ‘Any children?’—just like that! Gee, it was funny! It wasn’t what I expected ‘im t’ say at all! I didn’t know what t’ say, so fine’ly I says: ‘No.’ So, wit’ that, he just stands there lookin’ at me, an’ he shakes his head at me like he was disgusted wit’ me for not havin’ any. So then I gets sore, I forget I’m pot married—the way he shakes his head at me as if it was my fault for not havin’ any children gets me good an’ sore—an’ I says to ‘im: ‘So what? What if I haven’t? Have you?”
Number two, now fascinated: “So w’at happens? W’at does he tell yah?”
She: “He stands lookin’ at me an’ says: ‘Fiver—just like that. An’ then he shakes his head again—‘All women,’ he says, as if he was disgusted wit’ me—Like yourself,’ he says. An’ then he takes his hat, an’ leaves his dollah, an’ walks out!”