whispered excitedly: ‘You heard what he said? Apple, pumpkin, lemon – no other kind. That means he wants to switch, but he’s too bullheaded to say so. Now, listen, Mildred. Tomorrow you bring three pies, one apple, one pumpkin, one lemon. Just three, no more. And I’ll see that they’re served. They’re sample, but you’ve got to remember one thing: It’s got to be his idea.’
Ida put her head through the door and beckoned, and Anna came out. Anna, the girl with the sock, had been reinstated some time before. Ida pulled her into the huddle. ‘Listen, Anna, you heard what I said to him in there?’
‘Ida, them pies are a disgrace, and—’
‘OK, then you do just like I say, and we’ll get Mildred’s pies in here, ’stead of them cow pies we got now. Anna, they’re just wonderful. But you know how he is, so tomorrow, when I put out the samples Mildred’s going to bring, you put the bee on him and say that’s what he’s been up to all along. Then he thought it up, and we break through his bullheadedness.’
‘Just leave it to Little Orphan Annie.’
‘And put it on thick.’
‘I’ll take that Greek like Grant took Richmond. Don’t worry, Mildred. We’ll sell your pies for you.’
Mildred had a warm, wet-eyed feeling toward them both, and decided that Anna rated a free pie now and then, too. That afternoon she made the samples, and next morning Ida took charge of them herself, hurrying back to the kitchen with them like a spy carrying bombs. Changing into her uniform, Mildred was as nervous as an actress on opening night, and when she went into the kitchen there was expectancy in the air. Mr Chris was at his desk, in the corner, and presently got up and went over to the
out
door. Here he posted, with a thumbtack, a piece of cardboard on which was written, in his Mediterranean handwriting, the special order for the day:
Sell
Ham & S Potato
All gathered around and looked at it. Ida went over to the desk, picked up the blue pencil, came back to the door and added
& Pie
One by one, the girls filed in the dining-room.
Lunch had barely started when Mildred managed to sell two pieces of pie. Mr Rand, one of her regular customers, came in early with another man, and when she handed him the menu to pick out his dessert, she asked innocently, ‘Would you care for a piece of pie, Mr Rand? The lemon is very good today.’
Mr Rand looked at his companion. ‘That just shows how much principle she’s got. The pie stinks, she knows it stinks, and yet she says the lemon is very good today. Lay off the pie – unless you’re really tired of this life, and prefer to be dead.’
‘We have a new line of pie today, Mr Rand.’
‘Well – is it any
good
?’
‘You try a piece. I think you’ll like it.’
The other man chose chocolate ice cream, and Mildred hurried to the kitchen to get the orders. As she came back with both desserts and the coffee, her heart gave a leap as she heard a customer say: ‘That pie looks good.’ when she set it in front ofMr Rand the other man didn’t even let her put the ice cream down. ‘Say, I want some of that! Can I switch?’
‘Why certainly!’
‘Principle? She’s got principle plus. Say, that meringue looks two inches thick.’
By noon, the lemon pie was a few smears of filling in an empty plate, and by one o’clock, all three pies were gone. By three, Ida had opened up on Mr Chris, with everybody standing around, to watch the result. She said just look how them pies went. She said the lemon was gone before she could even turn around, and one customer wanted a second cut, and she didn’t have it to give him. She said it was just terrible what the people said, when Mildred’s pies ran out and she had to serve the bakery pies. To all of this, Mr Chris made no reply whatever, merely hunching over his desk, and acting as though he was deaf. Ida ploughed on, louder and louder. She said there was one lady, in a party of four, that wanted to know where they got
Ida put her head through the door and beckoned, and Anna came out. Anna, the girl with the sock, had been reinstated some time before. Ida pulled her into the huddle. ‘Listen, Anna, you heard what I said to him in there?’
‘Ida, them pies are a disgrace, and—’
‘OK, then you do just like I say, and we’ll get Mildred’s pies in here, ’stead of them cow pies we got now. Anna, they’re just wonderful. But you know how he is, so tomorrow, when I put out the samples Mildred’s going to bring, you put the bee on him and say that’s what he’s been up to all along. Then he thought it up, and we break through his bullheadedness.’
‘Just leave it to Little Orphan Annie.’
‘And put it on thick.’
‘I’ll take that Greek like Grant took Richmond. Don’t worry, Mildred. We’ll sell your pies for you.’
Mildred had a warm, wet-eyed feeling toward them both, and decided that Anna rated a free pie now and then, too. That afternoon she made the samples, and next morning Ida took charge of them herself, hurrying back to the kitchen with them like a spy carrying bombs. Changing into her uniform, Mildred was as nervous as an actress on opening night, and when she went into the kitchen there was expectancy in the air. Mr Chris was at his desk, in the corner, and presently got up and went over to the
out
door. Here he posted, with a thumbtack, a piece of cardboard on which was written, in his Mediterranean handwriting, the special order for the day:
Sell
Ham & S Potato
All gathered around and looked at it. Ida went over to the desk, picked up the blue pencil, came back to the door and added
& Pie
One by one, the girls filed in the dining-room.
Lunch had barely started when Mildred managed to sell two pieces of pie. Mr Rand, one of her regular customers, came in early with another man, and when she handed him the menu to pick out his dessert, she asked innocently, ‘Would you care for a piece of pie, Mr Rand? The lemon is very good today.’
Mr Rand looked at his companion. ‘That just shows how much principle she’s got. The pie stinks, she knows it stinks, and yet she says the lemon is very good today. Lay off the pie – unless you’re really tired of this life, and prefer to be dead.’
‘We have a new line of pie today, Mr Rand.’
‘Well – is it any
good
?’
‘You try a piece. I think you’ll like it.’
The other man chose chocolate ice cream, and Mildred hurried to the kitchen to get the orders. As she came back with both desserts and the coffee, her heart gave a leap as she heard a customer say: ‘That pie looks good.’ when she set it in front ofMr Rand the other man didn’t even let her put the ice cream down. ‘Say, I want some of that! Can I switch?’
‘Why certainly!’
‘Principle? She’s got principle plus. Say, that meringue looks two inches thick.’
By noon, the lemon pie was a few smears of filling in an empty plate, and by one o’clock, all three pies were gone. By three, Ida had opened up on Mr Chris, with everybody standing around, to watch the result. She said just look how them pies went. She said the lemon was gone before she could even turn around, and one customer wanted a second cut, and she didn’t have it to give him. She said it was just terrible what the people said, when Mildred’s pies ran out and she had to serve the bakery pies. To all of this, Mr Chris made no reply whatever, merely hunching over his desk, and acting as though he was deaf. Ida ploughed on, louder and louder. She said there was one lady, in a party of four, that wanted to know where they got
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