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Updated: May 13, 2025
That feeling, which had come through his experience with Ida May Bostwick, seemed a sacrilege when he considered this girl. The man beside him, noisily finishing his soup, ordered apple-meringue pie when the waitress returned with Tunis' order. The latter noted that her fingers still trembled when she placed his food before him.
"You've rung me up an extry nickel. What's the idea?" "Fifteen cents for meringue, sir." "Huh? Who had meringue? I had apple pie, plain apple pie. It's ten cents. This feller" indicating Tunis "ordered apple-meringue; not me." He held out the check for correction belligerently. "You ordered apple-meringue, sir, and I brought it. You ate it. The check is correct."
She hovered over his chair and her near presence thrilled him. He had not much more than played with the food. Now he replied briefly, without thinking: "Apple-meringue." "Yes, sir." His neighbor pushed back his chair and got up noisily. He picked up his check, glanced at it, and snorted. "Hey!" he said to the girl returning with Tunis' pie. "What's this for?" "Yes, sir?"
Her fish would have to be degraded into kedgeree, though plaice would have done just as well as sole for that; the cutlets could be heated up again, and perhaps the whisking for the apple-meringue had not begun yet, and could still be stopped. "Janet!" she shouted. "Going out to dinner! Stop the meringue."
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