“Spoken like a gentleman! Right you are, Old Top! Line up, fellows. Ice creams all around, Doolie.”
The clerk looked hesitantly at Rodney. The latter smiled but shook his head. “Suppose I haven’t enough coin, fellows?” he inquired.
“That’s all right, Doolie will chalk it up, won’t you, Doolie? Doolie’s a nice, obliging little poisoner.”
“Very glad to charge ’em,” said the clerk. “What flavors?”
“Hold on,” protested Rodney. “I’m not one of you fellows yet. I won’t be until I reach school. I guess that lets me out. Still, I don’t want to seem stingy, so I’ll tell you what I’ll do.”
“What?” asked Watson, frowning darkly.
“I’ll buy ice-cream sodas for the crowd if you’ll all take the same flavor. You—” nodding at Watson—“choose it. You’ve only got one guess, though.”
“How do you mean, one guess?”
“Why, if you call for a flavor he hasn’t got, you lose. That lets me out. Savvy?”