Arranged along both sides of the dining car, next to the broad, high windows, were small tables, sparkling with cut-glass and silver. In the center of each table was a small pot of graceful ferns, while throughout the car there were fine hangings, beautifully inlaid wood, and on the floor a soft carpet. It was, indeed, a fine traveling hotel.
At the tables, not all of which were occupied, were seated beautiful women, some handsomely gowned, and there were men, attired in the height of fashion. For the first time Roy felt rather ashamed of his ordinary "store" clothes, which were neither properly cut, nor of good material.
"Here is a good table," said Mr. Baker, indicating one about the center of the car.
Roy took his seat opposite his new acquaintance, a queer feeling of nervousness overcoming him.
"I'd rather ride a bucking bronco any day, than be here," the boy thought. But he was not going to back out now. He knew he had the money to pay for whatever he ordered, and, he reflected that if he was not as stylishly dressed as the others, he was probably more hungry than any of them, for he had an early breakfast.
As soon as Roy and Mr. Baker were seated, a colored waiter glided swiftly to their table and filled their glasses from a curiously shaped vessel, called a "caraffe," which looked something like a bottle or flask, with a very large body, and a very small neck. Inside was a solid lump of ice, which made the water cold. Roy looked curiously at the piece of frozen crystal. Mr. Baker noted his look of astonishment.
"Don't you like ice water?" he asked.
"Yes, but I was wondering how in the world they ever got that big hunk of ice through the little neck of that bottle."
"Oh," exclaimed Mr. Baker with a laugh, "they first fill the caraffe with water, and then they freeze it in an ice machine they have on the train for keeping the other supplies from spoiling. It would be rather difficult to put that chunk of ice down through that narrow neck."
Roy understood now. He began to think he had lots to learn of the world, but there was more coming. The waiter placed a menu card in front of Mr. Baker, and laid one at Roy's plate. He knew what they were, for he had several times taken dinner at a small hotel at Painted Stone.