He stood up on the bench and gazed outward. Presently he sat down again and went on calmly with his meal. Some excellent cheese cake was brought us as dessert.
“That alley behind us,” he said. “I suppose it communicates with Beekman Street, doesn't it?”
“I guess so. Why?”
“Just wondering. Ben, I apologize for my skepticism. The food here is jolly good. In fact, it's so good that I think I've tasted it before. I am your debtor for a very enlarging experience. And now, as the crowd is becoming almost oppressive, and I can see that there are others eager to commute, suppose we smoke our cigars outdoors.”
“Right you are,” I said. “And since the food is eatable, and I happen to have the money with me, I think I'll invest in one of those strip tickets. Everyone else seems to be doing it, and it looks to me a good way to save money. A hundred lunches—why, that will see me through till spring. I don't think I'll get tired of eating here, it's so amusing.”
“No,” said Dove, as he picked up his hat, “I don't think you'll get tired of eating here. Perhaps the money will be well spent.”
I bought my commutation, and we stood in the shabby old courtyard for a few minutes watching the crowd stream in. A good many, I noticed, though unable to find seats, still took advantage of the opening-day offer and bought the hundred meal tickets for future consumption.
“The only drawback about this place is the crowd,” I said. “If this keeps up, half of downtown New York will be eating here.”
“Look here,” said Dove, “I think I shall be down this way again to-morrow. It's my turn to buy. Will you lunch with me then? We'll celebrate the jovial Yule together.”
“Fine,” I said. “Meet you at the old red newspaper-box at the corner of Broadway and Vesey to-morrow at 12 o'clock.”