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Updated: June 5, 2025
If you let him get away with it now an' then, he'll split even with you. H'm? O, well, now, don't get so high and mighty. The management expects it in this department. That's why they pay starvation wages." An unusual note of color crept into Miss Gussie Fink's smooth cheek. It deepened and glowed as Heiny darted around the corner and up to the bar.
Then one wild night there had been a waiters' strike wages or hours or tips or all three. In the confusion that followed Heiny had been pressed into service and a chopped coat. He had fitted into both with unbelievable nicety, proving that waiters are born, not made.
She was about to turn away, with a last look at Heiny yawning behind his hand, when suddenly the woman rose unsteadily to her feet, balancing herself with her finger tips on the table. She raised her head and stared across the room with dull, unseeing eyes, and licked her lips with her tongue.
From what Tony says she must look something like Maxine Elliot, only brighter." Henri turned. He saw Miss Fink. A curious little expression came into his eyes a Heiny look, it might have been called, as he regarded his erstwhile sweetheart's unruffled attire, and clear skin, and steady eye and glossy hair. She was looking past him in that baffling, maddening way that angry women have.
He looked as one who would rest his eyes eyes weary of gazing upon satins, and jewels, and rouge, and carmine, and white arms, and bosoms. "Gee, Kid! You look good to me," he said. "Do I Heiny?" whispered Miss Fink. "Believe me!" replied Heiny, fervently. "It was just a case of swelled head. Forget it, will you? Say, that gang in there to-night why, say, that gang "
The prospect of that all-night, eight-hour stretch may have accounted for it, I say. But privately, and entre nous, it didn't. For here you must know of Heiny. Heiny, alas! now Henri. Until two weeks ago Henri had been Heiny and Miss Fink had been Kid. When Henri had been Heiny he had worked in the kitchen at many things, but always with a loving eye on Miss Gussie Fink.
There was about him an air of suppressed excitement suppressed, because Heiny was too perfect a waiter to display emotion. "Not another!" chanted the bartenders, in chorus. "Yes," answered Henri, solemnly, and waited while the wine cellar was made to relinquish another rare jewel. "O, you Heiny!" called Miss Sweeney, "tell us what she looks like. If I had time I'd take a peek myself.
I don't know whether he did or not; for five minutes after that Heiny has my old seat, and I'm inside behind the ground-glass door, sittin' at a reg'lar roll-top, with a lot of file cases spread out, puzzlin' over this incorporation junk that makes the Fundin' Comp'ny the little joker in the Corrugated deck.
There's a table of three, and they're drinkin' 1874 Imperial Crown at twelve dollars per, like it was Waukesha ale. And every time they finish a bottle one of the guys pays for it with a brand new ten and a brand new five and tells Heiny to keep the change. Can you beat it?" "I hope," said Miss Fink, pleasantly, "that the supply of 1874 will hold out till morning.
When she turned to face him she found Henri looking at her, and as he looked all the Heiny in him came to the surface and shone in his eyes.
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