"Chop-suey sundae," he announced, after a hasty glance at the printed menu.
"What?" stammered Sid. Such a delicacy cost a whole quarter, the most expensive treat that the soda fountain purveyed.
"Yes," said John calmly. "Better take one, too, Louise," he added maliciously. "They taste just peachy."
She accepted his suggestion gratefully.
"Give me a glass of water," ordered Sid weakly. It is an awful thing to possess soda liabilities of fifty cents when you have but three dimes and two nickels in your pocket.
John sensed his rival's predicament and smiled. Slowly, with manifest enjoyment in every mouthful, he devoured the tempting, frozen treat. Then he leaned back in his chair contentedly and waited for Louise to finish. The white-coated soda clerk approached the table for payment, and the terror which crept into Sid's face was strangely like that on Mordaunt's when the police had broken into the river hut. He drew out his inadequate supply of small change and looked at it blankly.
"Come, boys," prompted the man of syrups and sodawater, "I can't wait all day."
"I haven't enough money," whispered Sid at last.
John turned, a hint of the stage hero's mannerisms in his dramatic gesture. "What? Invite us for a treat and then can't pay for it? You're a fine one, Sid." He drew a half-dollar from his own pocket and flung it down on the table. "Never mind him," he turned to Louise. "I'll pay your car fare home!"
And with the crushed and humiliated Sid following them miserably, he led the way from the drug store to the waiting car.