lithely built and with the most adorable slightly retroussé nose in the world.
She was the kind of a girl your mother must have been.
As the head waiter approached her, a freckled-faced little train boy passing through the car suddenly paused beside her chair and hailed her cheerfully, "Hello, Peggy. Haven't seen you in a long time. Are you still helping your mother with the boarding house?"
The girl had a newspaper and her dessert spread on the table in front of her. She was manipulating a pencil with one hand and working a crossword puzzle; with the other hand she was conveying eatables daintily to her smooth, red lips.
She glanced up in friendly fashion at the train boy and, recognizing him as a youngster from her home town, answered, "Hello, Johnny Niles. Yes, I'm helping mother. And I have a new job at the Hotel Tate—in the check room."
When the train boy had passed on, the head waiter took heart. For the elderly couple seated opposite the girl arose and made their way out of the car. And the girl seemed so agreeable. The head waiter held up his hand and motioned Harold to come in and become the pretty girl's tablemate.
