Motion Picture Story Magazine (Feb-Jul 1912)

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EVERYTHING COMES TO HIM WHO WAITS 71 kitchen, the proprietor rushed in, waving a long, white paper. ' ■ Look, here is it, the bill ! ' ' he cried, failing, in his excitement, to notice the signs of tumult. "You haf smashed dishes worth eight dollars. The drummers have got mad and gone without paying — that is two dollars lost. Eight and two is ten. One dollar I owe you for this day. Nine dollars, then, you owe me alreaty yet ! Vhat is it to be by the week's end? fusion and terror, became fresh targets for the rain of dishes. As the supply of plates ran low, the fusillader caught up a tray full of heavy coffee cups, and, amid a storm of these missiles, the whole crowd rushed into the street, shrieking for the police. For a few moments, Cud McGiven, waiter for a day, stood alone in the deserted room, gazing about at the wreckage with a grim smile. CUD FINISHES THE JOB WITH BECOMING DEXTERITY Ach, get out of here now, while I have a dish or a customer left!" For a moment Cud gazed at the fat, gesticulating little man, at the sneering triumph of the head waiter, at the scandalized faces of the rest of the help. Then his plan of action formulated and matured with great swiftness. He caught up a tall stack of plates on his left arm, and, with sure and deadly aim, he launched them, one by one, in the direction of the group. They fled, thru the diningroom, and the guests, rising in con <«xe><sx«xexjx$> "A picture is a poem without words." "I must owe that Dutchy a thousand dollars by this time," he reflected. Then, as a sharp clang sounded thru the street, he started for the kitchen. "Ivry thing comes to the wan that waits — even the police pathrol," he chuckled, "but I'll not be afther waitin' for thim. It's out the kitchen windy f er mine ! ' ' " 'Twas a short job and a merry wan," he murmured, as he closed the window behind him and sped off into the darkness. -Horace.