In a moment more the Frenchman who had taken their order appeared, his tray piled high with dishes. Gus told their story, and motioned as if to go away. Evidently the man did not understand the stout youth, for his face grew dark.
“You have ordered the meal; you must pay for it,” he said in French.
Of course Gus did not understand him, and only shook his head. This made the man angry, and he called the proprietor, and the two talked to both boys in a high pitch of voice. Oliver turned his pockets inside out and Gus did the same, but even this had no effect save to make the proprietor of the place grow pale with passion.
“It’s no use,” cried Oliver. “They think we are only trying to fool them, that we never intended to take dinner here. What in the world shall we do?”
“I don’t know.” Gus gave a gasp. “I wonder if they will dare to have us arrested?”
“Arrested? Oh, I trust not!” Oliver looked about him in deep perplexity; “but I cannot imagine what is best to do.”
At that instant the boy’s gaze was turned towards the door, and he was overjoyed to see Mr. Whyland enter. Breaking from the group, he ran up to him.
“Oh, Mr. Whyland, how glad I am that you came in!” he exclaimed. “My friend and I have got into an awful muss.”
“Is that so? What is the trouble?”