"What? But I think I can guess, Freddy. As a speech maker I'm a swell coal truck driver."
"Me, too!" Freddy echoed with a grimace. "Good grief! I'd rather face a flight of Messerschmitts than a speaker's audience. I know I'll be a terrible flip, as you call it."
"It's flop, pal," Dawson chuckled. "And that'll be two of us. Between you, me, and the gate post, I'll be tickled silly if something happens to make this lecture tour in the States fall through. I don't feel happy about it, at all. Just the same, though, if it will sell some War Bonds, then we sure can't let them down. And it will give you a swell look at Uncle Sam's home grounds."
"Yes, there's that part of it," Freddy Farmer murmured with a nod. "It's little enough for us to do, and—"
The English youth suddenly stopped dead with his mouth hanging open. Dave, looking at him, saw his eyes come out like marbles on the ends of sticks. And for a split second he thought his pal had been stricken ill. Then as he turned his head and looked in the direction of Farmer's stare, his own jaw sagged, and his own eyes popped out in dumbfounded amazement.
The reason was the approach of the waiter with their orders. However, what the man set before them wasn't even close to what they had ordered. In fact, it was almost as though the Good Fairy had waved her magic wand and changed the Hotel Savoy dining-room into a little bit of another world. In short, each of them was served with a generous helping of red, juicy roast beef! There were also mashed potatoes, and creamed corn, and peas. And, yes, thick brown gravy, too!
For a long moment both of them sat speechless for fear that a single sound would break the spell, and that all that was set before them would disappear in thin air. Eventually, though, Dawson summoned the courage to look up into the waiter's grinning face, and speak.
"My heart is bleeding, but I'm afraid you've made a mistake," he said with a gigantic effort. "We didn't order this. Is there some rich Indian Rajah staying at the hotel? And he brought along his own supply of food, huh?"
The waiter laughed, and shook his head.
"Hardly, sir," he said. "The officials would have taken it from the blighter before he left the ship, I fancy. Only them that has the ration meat coupons can get it. And that goes for Royalty as well as the likes of me."