Jimmieboy and Bikey entered as they were bid, and the landlord closed the door after them. The place was dimly lighted, but on the shelves, that rose one above another from floor to ceiling, all sorts of curious looking bottles and cakes and pies and biscuits could be seen, and Jimmieboy's mouth watered at the sight.
"What'll you have?" asked the landlord. "An air cake or a piece of fresh pneumatic mince pie?"
"A little of both," said Jimmieboy.
"Or a bite of my gutta percha gum?" suggested the landlord.
"Well, it's hard to say," said Jimmieboy. "Indeed, I don't know what an air cake or a pneumatic mince pie is, nor did I ever hear of gutta percha gum."
"I know that mighty well," laughed the landlord. "Nobody ever heard of these patent dainties of mine, but they're the best things for the digestion you ever saw, and they last forever. If people could only train themselves to eat my food they'd be able to save money in two ways—bakers' bills and doctors' bills."
"I don't quite understand," said Jimmieboy.
"One of my pneumatic mince pies will show you in a jiffy," returned the landlord. "One pie if properly cared for will last a lifetime"—
"Not with a real live boy in the house it won't," said Jimmieboy, positively.