The lady with the defective eyes glared fiercely at him.  Her judgment wavered two ways.  Her first inclination was to hold that the fellow was jibing at her covertly, and she followed her original impulse far enough to clasp a neighboring sugar-bowl in a large, capable hand.  A second and more merciful thought entered her brain and stole slowly through it, like a faint echo in a great cave.

“You don’t have to make yourself pretty to talk to me,” she said thoughtfully.  “But if you’re here for chow you’re too late.”

“Ma’am,” said Buck Daniels instantly, “when I come in here I was hungry enough to eat nails; but I’ll forget about chuck if you’ll sit down an’ chin with me a while.”

The large hand of the cross-eyed lady stole out once more and rested upon the sugar-bowl.

“D’you mind sayin’ that over agin?” she queried.

“Lonesomeness is worse’n hunger,” said Buck Daniels, and he met her gaze steadily with his black eyes.

The hand released the sugar-bowl once more; something resembling colour stole into the brown cheeks of the maiden.

She said, relentingly:  “Maybe you been off by yourse’f mining, stranger?”

Buck Daniels drew a long breath.

“Mines?” he said, and then laughed bitterly.  “If that was all I been doin’—­” he began darkly—­and then stopped.

The waitress started.

“Maybe this here is my last chance to get chuck for days an’ days.  Well, let it go.  If I stayed here with you I’d be talkin’ too much!”

He turned slowly towards the door.  His step was very slow indeed.

“Wait a minute,” called the maiden.  “There ain’t any call for that play.  If you’re in wrong somewhere—­well, stranger, just take that chair and I’ll have some ham-and in front of you inside of a minute.”

She had slammed through the door before Buck turned, and he sat down, smiling pleasantly to himself.  Half of a mirror decorated the wall beside his table, and into this Buck peered.  His black locks were sadly disarrayed, and he combed them into some semblance of order with his fingers.  He had hardly finished this task when the door was kicked open with such force that it whacked against the wall, and the waitress appeared with an armful of steaming food.  Before Buck’s widening eyes she swiftly set forth an array of bread, butter in chunks, crisp French-fried potatoes, a large slab of ham on one plate and several fried eggs on another, and above all there was a mighty pewter cup of coffee blacker than the heart of night.  Yearning seized upon Buck Daniels, but policy was stronger than hunger in his subtle mind.  He rose again; he drew forth the chair opposite his own.

“Ma’am,” said Buck Daniels, “ain’t you going to favor me by sittin’ down?”

The lady blinked her unfocused eyes.

“Ain’t I what?” she was finally able to ask.

“I know,” said Buck Daniels swiftly, “that you’re terrible busy; which you ain’t got time to waste on a stranger like me.”