"Poor fellow," chimed in the young man perfunctorily.
"You don't say that as though you meant it at all," objected Ruth reprovingly.
"What do you expect me to do?" laughed Drew. "Weep bitter tears? I'll do it if you want me to. In fact, I'll do anything you want me to do—jump through a hoop, roll over, play dead, anything at all."
"I didn't know you had so many accomplishments," remarked Ruth, with a touch of sarcasm.
"Oh, I'm a perfect wonder," replied the young man. "There isn't anything I can't do or wouldn't do—for you," he added, dropping his voice so only she could hear it.
Ruth, however, pretended not to hear, and addressed her next remark to Grimshaw.
"How do you like Wah Lee's cooking?" she asked.
"Fine," replied Tyke. "There's no better cooks anywhere than the Chinks. Want to look out that he don't slip one over on you, though, if the victuals run short. Might serve up cat or rat or something of the kind an' call it pork or veal. An' he'd probably git away with it, too."
Ruth gave a little shudder.
"Cat might not be so bad at that," remarked her father. "Down in Chili, for instance, they haven't any rabbits and they serve up cats instead. 'Gato piquante' they call it, which means savory cat. I've never tasted it, but I know those who have, and they say that it makes the finest kind of stew."