“Read that!” he told the astonished occupants.
The “judge” read and passed the card along.
“Where do I go from here?” Dimples demanded, in a voice of triumph.
“Why”—the “judge” cleared his throat—“to your tailor’s for a uniform, I should say.”
CHAPTER III
“One Man to Every Ten!”
Late the following afternoon, as the judicial member of the Y examiners was leaving the building, his path was barred by a huge, rotund figure in khaki which rose from a bench in the hall. It was Dalrymple.
“I’ve been blocking traffic here for an hour,” the giant explained. “Look at me! It’s the biggest uniform in New York, and it was made in the shortest time.” Noting the effect his appearance created, he went on, “I suppose I do look funny, but—there’s nothing funny to me about it.”
The elder man’s face grew serious.
“I’m beginning to believe you’ll make good, Dalrymple. I hope so, for your sake and for the sake of the Association. If you don’t, we’ll have to order you back.”