in' in the afternoon," Mrs. Cowgill seemed to argue for the place that she had to be filled, just as if the candidate held back instead of sitting keen and hopeful, a new light bright in her eyes.
"That will be fine!" Louise declared. "I'm ready to begin right now."
Banjo Gibson sat looking this way and that, his mouth open, his eyes staring, as if amazed by some extraordinary creature that had appeared on the hotel porch and vanished with the next breath in a puff of smoke. He seemed to be making a mute appeal to somebody to confirm him in this amazing event as the lady agent followed Mrs. Cowgill into the hotel.
What did she mean? Banjo marvelled. Was she going to take that hash-slinger job? A girl like that? with a build like that? and a face like that? What could she know about slinging hash in a railroad boarding house? What would happen if Bill Connor tried to pinch her leg?
