"Cheese and pretzels!"
"Hello, Tough McCarthy!"
"Over here, Dopey McNab."
"Get into the orchestra."
"Good boy, Stover!"
"Congratulations!"
"Oh, Dink Stover, have we your eye?"
The last call, caught up by every voice, went swelling in volume, accompanied by a general uplifting of mugs and glasses. It was the traditional call to a health.
"I'd like to oblige," said Dink, a little embarrassed, "but I'm in training."
"That's all right—hand him a soft one."