By this time the soup had arrived, and both fell to with appetites born of a hard day's labor. The waiters were apparently serving "extras" with every course, and more than half the men at the tables were in uniform. Flags hung everywhere, and at each plate a papier-maché cannon held the customary bonbons. In the extreme eastern corner the Hungarians were playing "Dixie," "Old Kentucky Home," "Maryland," "Star-Spangled Banner," "Suwanee River," "A Hot Time," and other patriotic airs, one after the other, the conclusion of each being marked by loud applause from all sides.
"Isn't it great!" exclaimed Scott. "You know my governor thinks my going down with you is out of sight. He'd hate to have me enlist. Of course, I'd rather really, but in the long run I fancy there'll be more doin' right in Washington."
"You'll be busy, all right," said Ralston. "Has Thompson packed all the trunks?"
"And did you buy the tickets?"
Scott produced the tickets with obvious pride.
"Well, you're satisfactory so far. By the way, what are you going to do to-night?"
"Mrs. Patterson's theater party—'The Martial Maid.'"
"And you skipped the dinner?"
"To dine with my chief. Orders, you know. Duty before pleasure."