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Updated: June 24, 2025
Hamshaw finally came to discharge him every evening in order that he might be sure to find him at his post in the morning. Regularly, he would call Sago into the den, very red in the face over some wholly imaginary provocation. "This ends it, Sago! You go! I've stood it as long as I can or will. You leave the place tonight, sir bag and baggage. I don't want to see your face again. Understand?"
"And you're not Miss Frost?" "One of them scrawny I beg pardon, sir! Did you think I was " "Well, if that's the case, I can tell you what I said a moment ago. I said 'D n it all! Where am I?" "At Mr. Gladding's, sir." "Is Sago upstairs?" "No, sir; they've gone to the matinee on their wedding trip, Mr. Hamshaw." "Oh!" It was not what Mr. Hamshaw said but the way he said it.
Hamshaw's savage inquiry, Ellen, who attended him the next morning, said that Sago had gone to a dance on the West Side and had not turned up. Mr. Hamshaw sat bolt upright in bed and then collapsed. The next afternoon he went home early, haggard and with a headache. His confidence was not gone, however.
"Ah, it's so nice to be popular!" he chirped. "And and you can't blame the men, either, you know." "You can't thank them, either, if they don't enclose their cards. Nearly every day there is a guessing match in the back parlour. It's poor form to send flowers without a card." "By George, they're fine girls!" reflected Mr. Hamshaw. "Healthy, vigorous, full of life, and not a bit spoiled.
Hamshaw, and I'll serve it, too." This last with a deadly look at Sago. "He says he'll quit if I don't. Well, I don't!" "Will you make the dressing for the salad, sir, or shall I?" politely inquired Sago, ignoring Ellen completely. "Have you decided to stay long enough for that purpose?" demanded Mr. Hamshaw. "I have given notice, sir, that Ellen has to go," said Sago soberly.
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