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Updated: May 12, 2025
Whatever the soup was made of, it seemed to me the best soup I had ever eaten in New York, and I instantly determined never again to blame a working man or woman for dining in a saloon in preference to the more godly and respectable dairy-lunch room. We all ate ravenously, and I, who never before could endure the sight or smell of beer, found myself draining my "schooner" as eagerly as Mrs.
I strolled in, asked for a package of Cairos and gave the man the office, as you told me. He handed it over like a lamb, and I walked out with it, straight to that little café across the way. I had four of the boys waiting there, and my entrance was a signal to them to beat it over and buy enough tobacco to keep the shopkeeper busy while I made a getaway from the dairy-lunch place.
This is why: That day as she was returning from her long-deferred twenty-minute dairy-lunch, she had charged, umbrella down, almost full into a pretty lady getting out of a shiny gray limousine. Such an unnecessarily pretty lady, all furs and fluffles and veils and perfumes and waved hair!
"Count me out!" "Dear me, dear me!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle. Napoleon began to cry. He had a lusty pair of lungs. Almost instantly, the motherly looking person appeared in the doorway. She had been waiting for Napoleon's signal. "See!" she cried, holding up a bottle of milk. "I have it! To the dairy-lunch and the chemist's I have been while "
And her skin, too, that should have been a living rose-and-cream, was dulled by exposure to all weathers, and lack of time to pet it with creams and powders; perhaps a little, too, by the very stupid things to eat one gets at a dairy-lunch and boarding-house.
Has she not declared but now, this instant, that she went out to the chemist's, to the dairy-lunch? Catch Fifi on the street in her servant's dress! No, no! She spends her wages on dress, vain creature. She would no more think of venturing upon the street in but, we waste time. Of what interest can be the foibles of my poor old servant to you. Madame?
For the first half-hour I shook napkins bearing the familiar legend woven in red of a ubiquitous dairy-lunch place, and the next half-hour was occupied with bed-linen bearing the mark of a famous hostelry.
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