They decided this would be the better course. They got together
their things, and Condy neglected his stick, hanging upon a hook
on the wall.
At the counter in the outside room, Blix, to the stupefaction of
Richard, the waiter, paid the bill. But as she was moving toward
the door, Condy called her back.
"Remember the waiter," he said severely, while Richard grinned and
bobbed. "Fifty cents is the very least you could tip him."
Richard actually protested, but Condy was firm, and insisted upon
a half-dollar tip.
"Noblesse oblige," he declared with vast solemnity.
They walked as far as the cathedral, listened for a moment to the
bell striking the hour of eight; then as they remembered that the
restaurant closed at that time, hurried back and entered the
outside room in feigned perturbation.
"Did I, could I have possibly left my stick here?" exclaimed Condy
to Richard, who was untying his apron behind the counter. But
Richard had not noticed.
"I think I must have left it back here where we were sitting."
Condy stepped into the back room, Blix following. They got his
stick and returned to the outside room.
"Yes, yes, I did leave it," he said, as he showed it to Richard.
I'm always leaving that stick wherever I go."
"Come again," said Richard, as he bowed them out of the door.
On the curb outside Condy and Blix shook hands and congratulated
each other on the success of all their labors. In the back room,
seated at the same table, a bunch of wilting marguerites between
them, they had seen their "matrimonial objects" conferring
earnestly together, absorbed in the business of getting
acquainted.
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