ays Gerald, and he stands over J. Bayard, starin'
eager, while the paper is bein' made out. He watches us both sign our
names.

"This is drawn," says Steele, "on the attorney for the estate, and when
you present it he will give you a check for----"

"Thanks," says Gerald, reachin' trembly for the voucher.

For a minute he stands gazin' at it before he stows it away careful in
an inside vest pocket. Then all of a sudden he seems to straighten up.
He squares his shoulders and stiffens his jaw.

"Evelyn!" he sings out. "Ho, Evelyn!"

It ain't any smooth, ladylike tone he uses, either. A couple of stout
female parties, that's been toyin' with lobster Newburg patties and
chocolate eclairs and gooseberry tarts, stops their gossipin' and glares
round at him indignant.

"Evelyn, I say!" he goes on, fairly roarin' it out.

At that out comes Sister from behind her little coop lookin' panicky.
Also in from the kitchen piles the haughty waitress with the
mustard-tinted hair, and a dumpy, frowzy one that I hadn't noticed
before. The haughty one glares at Gerald scornful, almost as if he'd
been a customer.

"Why--why, Brother dear!" begins Evelyn, still holdin' open the novel
she'd been readin'. "What is the matter?"

"I'm through, that's all," he announces crisp.

"You--you are what?" asks his sister.

"Through," says Gerald loud and snappy. "I'm going to quit all
this--now, too. I'm going to close up, going out of the business.
Understand? So get those women out of here at once."

"But--but, Gerald," gasps Evelyn, "they--you see they are----"

"I don't care whether they've finished or not," says he. "It doesn't
matter. They needn't pay. But clear 'em out. Right away!"

She had big dark eyes, Sister Evelyn. She was thinner than Gerald, and a
few years older, I should guess. Anyway, her hair showed more gray
streaks. She had a soft, easy voice and gentle ways. She didn't faint,
or throw any emotional fit. She just looks at Gerald mildly reproachful
and remarks:

"Very well, Brother dear," and then glides down the aisle to the two
heavy-weight food destroyers.

We couldn't hear just what she told 'em, but it must have been
convincin'. They gathers up their wraps and shoppin' bags and sails
out, sputterin' peevish.

"Here, Celia!" commands Gerald, turnin' to the waitresses. "You and
Bertha pull down those front shades--tight, mind you! Then turn on the
dome and side lights--all of 'em."

We sat watchin' the proc