“No use, I suppose. But I have, often. I wish so now. Do you know what I’d do if I had fifty thousand dollars?”
“No; but something silly, I guess,” answered the other, prodding the steak till it sizzled.
“Well, I’d throw that foolish, lying clock out of the window and get your watch back. Then I’d take you to—to—Boston, I guess, and buy you a ripping good dinner for once in your life. We’d have quail and asparagus, and— Do you like chocolate éclairs?”
“Don’t know; never ate any. What are they like?”
“Well, we’d have them, anyway. Wish I had one now. And— But I’m getting hungry, myself.”
“Better stay and have some Hamburger and onions,” advised Anthony, with a smile. But Jack fled toward the door, ostentatiously holding his nose.
At half past seven they set out for the mass-meeting together. When they had crossed the Common and had entered the yard they found themselves in one of a number of little eddies of laughing, chattering fellows that flowed across the campus and merged in front of Grace Hall into a stream that filled the doorway and staircase from side to side.
“Going to have a full house,” observed Anthony.
At the door of the meeting-room they ran into Joe Perkins. He grabbed Anthony and sent him, under charge of Patterson, the manager, to a seat on the platform. Then he put a detaining hand on Jack’s arm.