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XIII DAMAGES FOR LIBEL“A rare rush whilst it lasts,” mentioned Mrs. Crowther, assisting in the task of clearing tables. “My dear husband used to reckon up how much we should be making profit in a year if, instead of being from twelve to two, it went on from what he called early morn to dewy eve.” She sighed. “Mr. Crowther had a lot of poetry in his disposition—much more so than most eating-house keepers in Millwall.”
“Did he make bits up out of his own 'ead?” asked the girl deferentially.
“Ethel,” said the proprietress, nursing a column of plates and speaking with resolution, “you're new to the place, and you're not full acquainted with the rules. Understand, once for all, please, that I don't allow a word to be said against my late husband—nor whispered.”
“Here's a stray customer coming in, ma'am,” remarked the assistant. “Give me that armful, and you see to him.”
A stout man, after examining the day's announcement outside, entered and sat down with the relieved air common to those who have walked a great distance and to those who find in any form of exercise a source of trouble; he took off his hat, hung up his overcoat, and said, with relish, “Here comes the busy part of my
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