Joyously she learned to make custard pie. This, as the tumultous future
proved, was indicative.
Only the little smiling gods of circumstance, wickedly winking at one
another, knew that when Warble whipped cream and beat eggs, she laid the
corner stone of a waiting Destiny, known as yet but to the blinking stars
above the murky Pittsburgh sky.
She was extravagant as to shoes and diet; and, on the whole, she felt that
she was living.
She was not mistaken.
She went to dances, but though sometimes she toddled a bit, mostly she sat
out or tucked in.
During her three years as a waitress several customers looked at her with
interest though without much principle.
The president of a well-known bank, the proprietor of a folding-bed
concern, a retired plumber, a Divinity student and a ticket-chopper.
None of these made her bat an eyelash.
For months no male came up for air. Then, the restaurant door swung back on
its noiseless check and spring, and in walked Big Bill Petticoat.
CHAPTER II
The Petticoats were one of the oldest and pride-fullest of New England
families. So that settles the status of the Petticoats. A couple of them
came over in the _Mayflower_, with the highboys and cradles and things, and
they founded the branch of Connecticut Petticoats--than which, of course,
there is nothing more so.
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