Barrifield, who had come from a coast where pie and clams are the natural heritage, suggested that, as the portions here were something less than a peck each, they might compromise on three. This Perner reluctantly agreed to, and the usual extra sirloin with mushrooms was added. Pie was then selected by Perner and Barrifield, and various delicacies by the others.
"A large pot of coffee," concluded Van Dorn.
"Ale with the clams," suggested Livingstone. The others nodded.
"Martinis first," interrupted Perner. Then to the waiter, "Four Martinis—and don't be all night getting them here."
"Rochefort, and Panetela cigars with the coffee," supplemented Barrifield.
"Cigarettes for me," corrected Livingstone, "Turkish Sultanas, small package, gold tips."
There was a note of gold in the atmosphere. The order was not prodigal, but there was an unstinted go-as-you-please manner about it which made the waiter bow and vanish hastily. Barrifield turned to Perner.
"Now," he said, "what's your great scheme?"
Perner had already drawn a folded type-written sheet from his inside coat pocket.
"It's Van's idea," he said, with becoming modesty. "I may have elaborated it some and put it into words, that's all. But it's simply tremendous! Premiums have been done. Cameras and watches have been given with twelve papers of bluing or needles, but this thing has never been done by anybody—at least, not in this form."