_
Sharlee glanced at Mrs. Paynter, who caught herself and said: "Mr.
Queed, my niece--Miss Weyland."
But over the odious phrase, "my business woman," her lips boggled and
balked; not to save her life could she bring herself to damn her own
niece with such an introduction.
Noticing the omission and looking through the reasons for it as through
window-glass, Sharlee smothered a laugh, and bowed. Mr. Queed bowed, but
did not laugh or even smile. He drew up a chair at his usual place and
sat down. As by an involuntary reflex, his left hand dropped toward his
coat-pocket, whence the top edges of a book could be described
protruding. Mrs. Paynter moved vaguely toward the door. As for her
business woman, she made at once for the kitchen, where Emma and her
faithful co-worker and mother, Laura, rose from their supper to assist
her. With her own hands the girl cut a piece of the Porterhouse for Mr.
Queed. Creamed potatoes, two large spoonfuls, were added; two rolls;
some batterbread; coffee, which had to be diluted with a little hot
water to make out the full cup; butter; damson preserves in a saucer:
all of which duly set forth and arranged on a shiny black "waiter.
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