“I believe,” put in Greg Carker solemnly, “that along with the coming social revolution will come a revolution in eating.”
“Oh, don’t you hear the earthquakes?” shouted a dozen fellows, in chorus, and Carker’s jaws came together with a snap.
“That’s too bad!” said Jim Hooker sympathetically. “A fellow ought to have a right to air his views occasionally.”
“But not to air his earthquake at a social function like this,” said Ready. “I have no use for earthquakes at a dinner. Give me grub, instead!”
“Good Lord!” muttered Browning to his nearest neighbor on the right, who happened to be Hock Mason. “If I eat any more, I shall explode, and still this stuff don’t seem to give me that stuffed feeling I get when I fill up on roast beef, or meat of any kind.”
“That’s right, sah,” nodded the youth from South Carolina. “This supper has been a revelation to me, for I never knew before how many good things there were outside meat diet.”
“If a fellow could lose flesh on such feed, it might be a good thing for me,” put in Ralph Bingham.
“Where are the smokes to follow it?” inquired Bert Dashleigh, looking round. “A banquet is never complete without cigars and cigarettes to follow, while the speeches are being made.”
“Gentlemen,” said Frank, “I think we will dispense with tobacco to-night, just as we have dispensed with its twin poison, alcohol. If we do so, I think none of us will feel the worse, and to-morrow we’ll all feel better.”
“But I need a smoke to help me digest my food,” murmured Dashleigh.