"Betcherlife!" And Mr. Andrew Barrett rushed off.
VII
H. R. went out to have his boards made. He distributed orders among wood-carvers and plaster-casting ateliers, and devised a method by which boards could be made on the principle of stereotypers' matrices, only the letters were raised. He pledged the makers to deliver the boards within twenty-four hours, and as he did not haggle over the price by the simple expedient of not asking for it, they promised. When a man is permitted to fix his own profit he will do anything except go to church.
At seven sharp, accompanied by Andrew Barrett, H. R. went to Caspar Weinpusslacher's. He could not get a seat. People stood in dozens, waiting for the early dinner to finish. And most of the waiting customers were fashionably dressed. The Colossal Restaurant had become a fad.
Caspar greeted H. R. with respect. He did not yet feel strong enough to display ingratitude.
"I'll fix a special table, Mr. Rutchers," he said.
H. R. nodded assent and then sought Fleming. At the longest table sat twenty-seven unionized artists.
"Are you getting the full thirty-cent dinner?" he asked, paternally.
"Yes, sir," Fleming hastily assured him.