“You tell your friends to come and see you somewhere else,” replied Joe tartly. “This place looks like a hog-wallow after that crowd has been standing around a while.”
“Meaning my friends are hogs, eh?” Mr. Chester Young laughed, but not with amusement.
“If they’re friends of yours, Chester,” said Jack, “you’d better shake them. They’re a cheap lot of corner loafers. They used to hang out around Foster’s until they got on to the fact that they could come in here and keep warm. We don’t want them. Get that?”
“Sure! After this as soon as a customer gets his change I’ll duck out from here and throw him through the door! That’s fine!”
“Don’t talk sick,” said Jack shortly. “You know what we mean. If you don’t encourage them by talking with them they’ll go along, I guess. We don’t want Mr. Adams putting us out of here, you know.”
Mr. Chester Young forebore to reply, but there was a world of eloquence in the way in which he puffed his cigarette and winked at the elevator attendant across the lobby.
Later, when the chums were on their way to the field for the game with Morristown High School, they reverted to Mr. Chester Young. “What do you know about his paying ten dollars for a straw hat?” demanded Jack.
“He’s probably adding about five to the price,” said Joe. “Where would he get that much to pay for a hat? He certainly can’t do it on the wages we’re paying him.”
“You said he was having things charged, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but he told us he was getting the hat from Chicago.”