Pickles
are forbidden."
Waymark burst into a most unsympathetic roar of laughter, but with
O'Gree the grievance was evidently a serious one, and it was some
few moments before he recovered his equanimity. Indeed it was not
quite restored till the entrance of another customer, who purchased
two ounces of butter. When, in the dead silence which ensued, Sally
was heard weighing out the order, O'Gree's face beamed; and when
there followed the chink of coins in the till, he brought his fist
down with a triumphant crash upon the table.
When tea was over, O'Gree managed to get Waymark apart from the
rest, and showed him a small photograph of Sally which had recently
been taken.
"Sally's great ambition," he whispered, "is to be taken
cabinet-size, and in a snow-storm. You've seen the kind of thing in
the shop-windows? We'll manage that before long, but this will do
for the present. You don't see a face like that every day; eh,
Waymark?"
Sally, her housewifery duly accomplished in the invisible regions,
came back and sat by the fireside. She had exchanged her work-a-day
costume for one rather more ornate. Noticeable was a delicate gold
chain which hung about her neck, and Waymark smiled when he
presently saw her take out her watch and seem to compare its time
with that of the clock on the mantelpiece.
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