“I don’t believe so,” remarked Bob, whose nickname of Chunky fitted him well. “But let’s go down the street and read one of the notices. There’s one in front of Porter’s drug store. And while we’re there we can——”
“Get chocolate sodas! I know you were going to say that!” broke in Ned. “Say, I thought you were on a diet, Chunky. The idea of taking chocolate! Don’t you know it’s fattening?”
“Who said anything about chocolate sodas?” demanded the fat one. “I didn’t mention it!” and he glared at Ned. But Jerry was between the two.
“I know you didn’t, little one!” returned Ned sweetly. “But you were going to, and I made it easy for you. However, I don’t believe one chocolate will hurt you; and since you are going to buy——”
“Who said I was?” demanded Bob.
“Why, didn’t you?” asked Ned, with an assumption of innocence. “I’m sure I heard Chunky invite us to have sodas. Didn’t you, Jerry?”
“Sure!” was the ready answer. “Don’t try to back out, Bob. It’s too late.”
“Well, it’s of no use trying to buck up against a conspiracy like this,” sighed the stout youth. “I guess I’ve got the price,” and he rattled some change in his pocket.
The trio of lads, nodding now and then to acquaintances they passed, kept on down the street until they reached Porter’s drug store. In the window was a placard announcing a patriotic meeting to be held in the auditorium that evening, for the purpose, as it stated, of:
“Upholding President Wilson, and proving to him that Cresville approves of his course in declaring a state of war with Germany exists.”