Chester was surprised to hear this. In Wyncombe everyone took his meals in the same house in which he lodged.
“And that reminds me, don’t you feel hungry? I don’t ask Rob, for he always has an appetite. How is it with you, Chester?”
“I took a very early breakfast.”
“So I thought,” laughed Conrad. “Well, put on our coats, and we’ll go to Trainor’s.”
They walked over to Sixth Avenue and entered a restaurant adjoining the Standard Theater. It was handsomely decorated, and seemed to Chester quite the finest room he was ever in. Ranged in three rows were small tables, each designed for four persons. One of these was vacant, and Conrad took a seat on one side, placing the two boys opposite.
“Now,” he said, “I had better do the ordering. We will each order a different dish, and by sharing them we will have a variety.”
There is no need to mention of what the dinner consisted. All three enjoyed it, particularly the two boys. It was the first meal Chester had taken in a restaurant, and he could not get rid of a feeling of embarrassment at the thought that the waiters, who were better dressed than many of the prominent citizens of Wyncombe, were watching him. He did not, however, allow this feeling to interfere with his appetite.
“Do you always eat here, Mr. Conrad?” asked Chester.
“No; sometimes it is more convenient to go elsewhere. Now and then I take a table d’hote dinner.”
“I don’t think I can afford to come here often,” Chester remarked, after consulting the bill of fare and the prices set down opposite the different dishes.