"Condy!" exclaimed Blix in alarm, "are you sick?"--for he had
turned a positive white.
"I haven't a cent of money," he murmured faintly. "I spent my
last quarter for those beastly crackers. What's to be done? What
is to be done? I'll--I'll leave him my watch. Yes, that's the
only thing."
Blix calmly took out her purse. "I expected it," she said
resignedly. "I knew this would happen sooner or later, and I
always have been prepared. How much is it, John?" she asked of
the Chinaman.
"Hefahdollah."
"I'll never be able to look you in the face again," protested
Condy. "I'll pay you back to-night. I will! I'll send it up by a
messenger boy."
"Then you WOULD be a buffoon."
"Don't!" he exclaimed. "Don't, it humiliates me to the dust."
"Oh, come along and don't be so absurd. It must be after five."
Half-way down the brass-bound stairs, he clapped his hand to his
head with a start.
"And NOW what is it?" she inquired meekly.
"Forgotten, forgotten!" he exclaimed. "I knew I would forget
something."
"I knew it, you mean."
He ran back, and returned with the great bag of crackers, and
thrust it into her hands. "Here, here, take these. We mustn't
leave these," he declared earnestly. "It would be a shameful
waste of money;" and in spite of all her protests, he insisted
upon taking the crackers along.
"I wonder," said Blix, as the two skirted the Plaza, going down to
Kearney Street; "I wonder if I ought to ask him to supper?"
"Ask who--me?--how funny to--"
"I wonder if we are talked out--if it would spoil the day?"
"Anyhow, I'm going to have supper at the Club; and I've got to
write my article some time to-night.
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