Only since yesterday morning. I had advertised for a salesman and he walked in about eight o'clock, along with ten other fellows. I engaged O'Grady; he worked all day; and last night he walked out. Nothing is missing; he did not even ask for his wages. He simply walked out and hasn't come back. I can't understand it!
Consuelo's disappointment was as keen as Campaspe's, but, after all, there was the matter of her orchids. She broached the subject.
The florist opened the glass doors of his brilliantly illuminated refrigerator.
Didn't you take down his address? Campaspe persisted.
No. I can't think why. It's the first time such a thing has ever happened. We always take down our employees' addresses. Stupid girl! He shook his fist at the cashier. That self-sufficient blonde was busily engaged in reading a novel by J. S. Fletcher and her absorption spared her a knowledge of the insulting gesture.
He was a particularly nice young man, Consuelo asseverated with dignity. I think, Mrs. Lorillard, I prefer the green ones to the mauve ones.
Are the orchids for the little girl? the florist inquired. In that case let me unpack a few white sprays that have just come in.
Pray, don't trouble, Consuelo remarked, a trifle scornfully. I prefer the green ones.
