“And moved on,” Sandy chimed in.
Mr. Cook turned to Sandy in surprise. “Right! How did you know?”
“That last day before we left Oakland, Mike and I went downtown to do some last-minute shopping. Remember?”
“Sure.”
“When we finished Mike said he wanted a soda. With Mike, that’s a full hour’s proposition. I didn’t want any, so I said I’d meet him at the library.”
“Squealer,” muttered Mike.
Joe looked at Mike in amazement. “You mean it takes him an hour to drink a soda?”
Sandy shrugged. “You know how it is. One soda leads to another.”
“I see.” Joe nodded gravely. “He drinks.”
Sandy sighed and nodded his head. “That’s about the size of it.”