Presently the soup was brought on.
“Sail right in now, Herbert, you and Tom,” said Bob. “The next course will be right along.”
Tom took a few drops, timidly, then a larger portion—less timidly—and now he put on a full head of steam and worked the spoon like a trip hammer.
When his plate was empty he said: “I think I struck it right, Bob; I knew I hit the best name.”
“Why, was yours good, Tom?” replied Bob.
“I should think it was, Bob. It was way up, that’s what it was. You see ’tain’t always, Bob, that a feller can pick a winner the first time.”
“Now you’re givin’ us some more of your horse racin’ expressions, Tom. Can’t you never let ’em alone, ’specially at a tony dinner like this is?” said Bob.
“Well, I didn’t think about that, Bob. I didn’t mean to do nothin’ wrong. But you see, Bob, I didn’t know of no other way to get at it. This orderin’ stuff by these blamed words is takin’ chances—what I call bigger chances than bettin’ on a horse race.”
Young Randolph and Bob laughed heartily at Tom’s remarks.
The next course was now put on the table. It came in a large platter. Three plates were placed before Bob, and he served the fish and potatoes in a very creditable manner.