"He'll roar anyway, so what's the odds? We're used to that."
"A queer business, this advance car work," said Phil thoughtfully. "I never had any idea that it was like this. If ever I own or run a show it will be different—I mean the advance cars will be run on a different principle from this one."
"I hope you do, and that I am working for you," grinned Conley.
"Here we are."
Billy's description of a contract hotel Phil decided had not been overdrawn. All hands filed into the dining room, and Phil had lost most of his appetite before reaching his chair.
A waiter who looked as if he might have been a prizefighter at one time shambled up to them with a soiled napkin thrown over one arm. As it chanced, he approached Teddy first.
"Bean soup! What'll you have," he demanded with a suddenness that startled the Circus Boy.
Teddy surveyed the waiter with large eyes, then permitted his gaze to wander about the table to the faces of the grinning billposters.
"Bean soup. What'll I have?" reflected the lad soberly.
"Now isn't it funny that I can't think what kind of soup
I want. Bean soup; what'll I have?"
The waiter shifted his weight to the other foot, flopped the napkin to the other arm and stuck out his chin belligerently.
"Bean soup! What'll you have?" he demanded, with a rising inflection in his voice.