“Restrain yourself,” the younger brother admonished. “The gentleman’s giving a party. Besides it’s downright harmful to eat breakfast on an empty stomach—and mine is absolutely vacant.”
“Worst thing you could do,” Wellman seconded. “It will show up on a man if he keeps at it.”
“I expect there have been folks tried it and went right on living till they got kicked by a horse or died some other sort of a natural death,” said Carver. “But what’s the use of taking chances?”
Noll restrained his urge for food while the host paid for two rounds, then reverted to his original contention.
“And now,” said he, “let’s eat.”
“Not until I’ve purchased a return round for our old friend Carver,” Bart dissented.
“How’re you going to manage it without a dime in your pockets?” Noll demanded.
“You ought to be familiar with the state of my pockets,” the blond youth returned, “having conducted a thorough search of them and purloined therefrom my last ten spot before I was awake. Why didn’t you reserve two bits for breakfast before you tossed it off on the wheel if you’re so damn near starved?”
He remained with Carver while the others followed Wellman through the swinging side door that led into the adjoining restaurant.
“And now, since Pete here,” said Bart, indicating the barkeeper, “steadfastly refuses to open a charge account, I’ll have to do some financing. Lend me a couple of quarts of your very worst,” he wheedled. “Not charge, you understand, but just lend ’em to me for a period of three minutes. Something round a dollar a quart.”