But Joe carried no steel. There wouldn’t have been room in his store to draw it if he had.
One Saturday afternoon, about four o’clock, Daisy and Mr. Dabster stopped before Joe’s booth. Dabster wore a silk hat, and—well, Daisy was a woman, and that hat had no chance to get back in its box until Joe had seen it. A stick of pineapple chewing gum was the ostensible object of the call. Joe supplied it through the open side of his store. He did not pale or falter at sight of the hat.
“Mr. Dabster’s going to take me on top of the building to observe the view,” said Daisy, after she had introduced her admirers, “I never was on a skyscraper. I guess it must be awful nice and funny up there.”
“H’m!” said Joe.
“The panorama,” said Mr. Dabster, “exposed to the gaze from the top of a lofty building is not only sublime, but instructive. Miss Daisy has a decided pleasure in store for her.”
“It’s windy up there, too, as well as here,” said Joe. “Are you dressed warm enough, Daise?”
“Sure thing! I’m all lined,” said Daisy, smiling slyly at his clouded brow. “You look just like a mummy in a case, Joe. Ain’t you just put in an invoice of a pint of peanuts or another apple? Your stock looks awful over-stocked.”
Daisy giggled at her favorite joke; and Joe had to smile with her.
