“I wish—”
“Yes?”
“Oh, nothing.”
The waiter left. The long boy hitched his back more firmly against the doorpost, and returned to his original theme.
“That surely does smell good!” He basked a moment in the aroma. “Yes, sir! I’ll tell the world it does!”
Archie was not an abnormally rapid thinker, but he began at this point to get a clearly defined impression that this lad, if invited, would waive the formalities and consent to join his meal. Indeed, the idea Archie got was that, if he were not invited pretty soon, he would invite himself.
“Yes,” he agreed. “It doesn’t smell bad, what!”
“It smells good!” said the boy. “Oh, doesn’t it! Wake me up in the night and ask me if it doesn’t!”
“Poulet en casserole,” said Archie.
“Golly!” said the boy, reverently.