"
"Where?"
"In one of the restaurants. There wouldn't be a soul there at
this hour. I know they serve tea any time. Condy, let's try it.
Wouldn't it be fun?"
Condy smote his thigh. "Fun!" he vociferated; "fun! It is--by
Jove--it would be HEAVENLY! Wait a moment. I'll tell you what we
will do. Tea won't be enough. We'll go down to Kearney Street,
or to the market, and get some crackers to go with it."
They hurried back to the California market, a few blocks distant,
and bought some crackers and a wedge of new cheese. On the way
back to Chinatown Travis stopped at a music store on Kearney
Street to get her banjo, which she had left to have its head
tightened; and thus burdened they regained the "town," Condy
grieving audibly at having to carry "brown-paper bundles through
the street."
"First catch your restaurant," said Travis as they turned into
Dupont Street with its thronging coolies and swarming, gayly clad
children. But they had not far to seek.
"Here you are!" suddenly exclaimed Condy, halting in front of a
wholesale tea-house bearing a sign in Chinese and English. "Come
on, Travis!"
They ascended two flights of a broad, brass-bound staircase
leading up from the ground floor, and gained the restaurant on the
top story of the building. As Travis had foretold, it was
deserted. She clasped her gloved hands gayly, crying: "Isn't it
delightful! We've the whole place to ourselves."
The restaurant ran the whole depth of the building, and was
finished off at either extremity with a gilded balcony, one
overlooking Dupont Street and the other the old Plaza.
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