"You're sure—" he stammered. "It seems mean to leave you, but.... Sure you wouldn't mind? If it wasn't that you are on a diet and can't eat I shouldn't think of it, but—"
"Shut up!" The Major fairly whooped it to Jericho. "If you talk diet to me again I'll kill you. Go in and eat. Eat, you idiot! I'd just as soon watch two pigs as one. Go in!"
So Shelton came in and I had a plate of chowder waitin' for him. He grabbed up his spoon and didn't speak until he'd finished the whole of it. Then he fetched a long breath, passed the plate for more, and says he:
"By George, Cap'n, that is the best stuff I ever tasted. You're a wonderful cook."
"Much obliged," says I. "But you ain't competent to judge until after the third helpin'. And now you try a slab of that spider-bread and a cup of coffee. And don't forget to leave room for the shortcake because.... Well, I swan to man! Why, Major Clark, are you crazy?"
For, as sure as I'm settin' here, old Clark had come bustin' into that kitchen, yanked a chair up to that table, grabbed a plate and the ladle and was helpin' himself to chowder.
"Major!" says I.
"Why, Cobden!" says Shelton.
"Shut up!" roars the Major. "If either of you say a word I won't be responsible for the consequences."
We didn't say anything and neither did he. Judgin' by the silence 'twas a mighty solemn occasion. Everybody ate chowder and just thought, I guess.