“No turkey,” said Tootles.
“And no cranberry sauce,” added Flick.
“No, no—forget all that!”
But at this moment, as though the spirit of the holiday were bent on pursuing them like a tantalizing imp, a stableman, affably inclined, saluted the room in his departure.
“Well, and good luck to youse all. A foine Christmas!”
“How about a steak?” said Tootles hastily.
“That hits me, and we’ll have it planked,” said O’Leary.
“Better look at the tax,” said Flick, in a burst of friendliness.
“Rot! We’ll make a night of it!” said King O’Leary, with the gesture of a millionaire toward Schnapps, the veteran waiter, who grinned down at them from his gobbler head.
“My word! If I ordered that, they’d make me show the goods,” said Tootles, in admiration. “Have you found a gold mine?”