“Too expensive? No, indeed!” he cried. “Make out the bill, master, and I’ll knock down my cheque. Hurrah! one doesn’t get married every morning, and it isn’t everybody who gets a girl like Sarah when he does get spliced! So there!”
Archie had told Bob and Harry of his first dinner at the hotel, and how kind and considerate in every way the waiter had been, and how he had often gone back there to have a talk.
“It is there then, and nowhere else,” said Bob, “we’ll have our wedding dinner.”
Archie would not gainsay this; and nothing would satisfy the lucky miner but chartering a whole flat for a week.
“That’s the way we’ll do it,” he said; “and now look here, as long as the week lasts, any of your friends can drop into breakfast, dinner, or supper. We are going to do the thing proper, if we sell our best jackets to help to pay the bill. What say, old chummie?”
“Certainly,” said Harry; “and if ever I’m fool enough to get married, I’ll do the same kind o’ thing.”
A happy thought occurred to Archie the day before the marriage.
“How much loose cash have you, Bob?”
“I dunno,” said Bob, diving his hands into both his capacious pockets—each were big enough to hold a rabbit—and making a wonderful rattling.
“I reckon I’ve enough for to-morrow. It seems deep enough.”