“What kind?” asked the waiter as he slid Ira’s repast before him.
“Why the airs? You know you’ve only got apple.”
Jimmy grinned. “Got you this time, Johnston! There’s cream and cocoanut, too.”
“Make it cream, Jimmy, and tell the Pie Specialist downstairs to let his hand slip a little.”
“Do they give board at this place you spoke of?” asked Ira when he had sampled his dinner.
“No, they don’t. You can eat in hall, though, or you can get your meals around. There are four or five places like this and a lot of boarding houses. The way I did my first year was live at the restaurants and quick-lunch joints for the first term and then, when I was sick to death of them, go to a regular boarding house. Smith’s is pretty fair. A lot of fellows eat there.”
“They give you pretty good meals at the school dining hall, don’t they?”
“Y-yes, but they charge for them.” Johnston shot a swift, appraising glance over Ira. “If you can stand six dollars a week, all right. Some fellows can’t.” Jimmy presented his slice of pie at that moment and Johnston observed it gloomily. “That fellow’s got perfect control, hasn’t he, Jimmy?”