“I want apple pie!”
“Cherry for mine!”
“Give me peach!”
“What’s the matter with the ‘peachy’ girl behind the counter?” asked some one, and there were many glances of warm but respectful admiration cast at the young girl behind the piles of food on the marble shelf.
“Sandwiches—all you got!” demanded Jerry.
“And some crullers, if you haven’t enough pie!” added Bob. “I want a lot of crullers. You can put ’em in your pocket!” he confided to Ned.
“Put ’em in your pocket? Man, dear! I’m going to put mine in my stomach!”
“Yes, I know. So’m I—most of ’em,” went on Chunky. “But you can stow away some in your pockets to eat when you get hungry again. They don’t get as mushy as pie.”
“You’re the limit!” Ned told his chum. “You haven’t had a feed yet, and you’re thinking of the next one. But go to it! I never felt so hungry in my life.” So Bob went to it, to the extent of stuffing his pockets with crullers, and carrying away as much else as he could in his hands.