"Are you guying me? Where'd juh come from?"
"The other side of the world."
"I guess that's right. Why, this is showless Tuesday, all east of the Mississippi. Even little Mary Pickford ain't working to-day. New York, Boston—it's all the same. Nothing doing. The new law; all the theaters, movies, billiard-parlors, and bowling-alleys dark."
"Well, I'll be hanged!"
"It's the war, sir," said the boy, soberly. "I'm in the next draft. I don't want to kill anybody; but if I've got to do it I'm going to learn how."
Mathison held out his hand. "That's the kind of talk. It's bad, bloody work, but it's got to be done. Here's a telegram I want sent. Don't bother bringing back the change. But don't fail to have this wire sent."
"I won't fail, sir."
"Now, I want you to give this order to the waiter."
After a word or two the boy interrupted Mathison. "No meat. Fish, lobster, oysters, chicken."