“Not a bit of it.”
“Then come sit down. Mr. Merriwell, this is a friend of mine, Mr. Gallagher.”
Frank acknowledged the introduction by a bow, and “Mr. Gallagher” growled something in his throat.
Daisy urged him to sit down, but Frank did not fancy taking a seat in that place. However, in order to get an opportunity to talk with her, he finally seated himself, to the disgust of the youth with the red hair.
“Wot’ll yer have?” demanded a waiter, appearing at Frank’s elbow the moment he was seated.
“You may bring me a sarsaparilla,” said Merry, “and serve Miss Blaney and Mr. Gallagher whatever they choose to order.”
“Sarsaparilla!” shouted the girl, with a laugh. “Oh, say, Merry, old fellow, have a beer! Babies drink soft stuff!”
“Then I think you’ll have to class me with the babies,” said Frank.
“Excuse me,” growled Gallagher, rising. “I don’t drink wid chaps that goozle that kind of stuff.”
Then he walked away.