“Oh, you’ll be all right. Chub won’t dare to touch you for fear he won’t get his dinner.”
“There you go again!” Chub groaned. “You fellows simply talk a subject to death. Your conversation lacks—lacks variety, diversity. If you are quite through vilifying me—”
“Doesn’t he use lovely language?” murmured Roy in an aside to Dick.
“We will now proceed with our estimate,” concluded Chub. “As I was saying, eggs—”
“I tell you what we might use,” interrupted Dick. “Have you ever seen any of this powdered egg?”
“Is this a joke?” asked Chub darkly.
“No, really! You buy it in cans. It’s eggs, just the yolks, you know, with all the moisture taken out of them. It’s a yellow powder. And when you want an omelet you just mix some milk with it and stir it up and there you are!”
But Chub was suspicious.
“And how do you make a fried egg out of it?” he asked.