Part 29 (2/2)

”Yes, if that's the first one.”

”Well, 'tis; but, Tom, you're way off. You didn't pick no winner this time, as you say, for that dish ain't no good.”

”Where did you get on to them blamed names, Bob? You're slingin' jest as much style here, too, as you did in the detective business.”

”Well, why wouldn't I know 'bout 'em, Tom? Didn't I work in one of these places for a good while, and didn't I pay some attention to the way things was done?”

”So you did, Bob; I didn't think about that.”

”I, too, have been surprised, Bob, to see how familiar you seemed with the various dishes,” said Herbert.

”Well, that's how it come. You see I picked it up.”

”But you are as much at ease serving the dinner as I am at eating it.”

”How much?” said Bob, feeling in his pocket for loose change.

”What do you mean?” asked Herbert, seriously.

Bob smiled, and Tom burst into a characteristic laugh. It was the first time since the dinner commenced that he had seen the funny side of anything. Tom Flannery was not given to looking upon the comical side.

He was too credulous for that; but when anything did strike him as funny, and he made up his mind to treat it as such, the outburst of laughter that followed--laughter that was rich and childlike--was something to do one good.

Now, there was nothing especially bright or funny about Bob's remark that should have caused Tom to become so hilarious. In fact, it was more Herbert's serious manner, than what Bob said, that set him off.

”'Twas an old chestnut, any way, Bob,” as Tom said the next day; ”but Herbert looked so honest about it, jest as if you wasn't talkin' jokes, that it jest made me lay myself out and shout. I couldn't er stopped, Bob, ef it had killed me.”

When the laughter had subsided, Bob explained his joke to Herbert, and then said:

”You have not told me what you will have. Here comes the waiter for our orders.”

”You order 'em, Bob,” said Tom. ”You know what's good.”

”That is a good suggestion, Tom, and meets with my approval,” remarked Herbert.

Bob accordingly ordered for all three, and his selection gave excellent satisfaction to his guests.

The next course was simply maccaroni, cooked in the Italian style, with tomato dressing.

”This is bang up, Bob,” said Tom Flannery, smacking his lips. ”Them Eyetalians are some good after all, ain't they?”

Roast duck followed the maccaroni, with jelly, and fine cut celery with dressing.

Then came ice cream, followed by cheese--_fromage de Brie_.

”Bob, there's somethin' wrong about this,” said Tom, seriously, referring to the last course. ”Jest get on to that piece, will you?” and Tom pa.s.sed his portion to Bob.

”Don't be a fool, now, Tom Flannery,” said Bob, with a.s.sumed displeasure, while he struggled hard to keep from giggling.

”Well, I ain't no fool, Bob; I guess I know when I know a thing,” said Tom, indignantly. ”I tell you that piece is all spoilt,” and, to make sure of his statement, he took it in his fingers, and without regard to good manners placed it close to his nose, and gave it a genuine test.

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