“Sure,” Johnny grinned, “but how?”
“Not so hard as it might seem,” the old man rumbled. “I’ve been thinking about it for quite a spell. You know college boys like a place to gather and talk things over, have a cup of coffee or hot malted, sort of a gathering place of the clan.”
“I know,” Johnny agreed.
“I’ve been watching them. They wander down town, go in here, go in there, gather in places, not so bad, not so good either, little gambling, slot machines and all that, little bad language from rough town folks, all that sort of thing. If I had a boy away from home, I’d like him in a better place. So why not, Johnny?” The old man leaned forward eagerly.
“Why not what?” Johnny asked.
“Why not turn that abandoned bowling alley building just off the campus into a sort of student’s retreat, place where they can buy little things they need, sit down for a hot drink, gather around for a bit of conversation, all that.
“I’ve got the fixtures for you, took them on a bad debt. They’re in storage. I’ll finance it for you. Make a job for both you and Ballard. What do you say?”
“Grand!” Johnny had all but hugged the old man.
They had worked hard to make the place attractive, Johnny and Ballard had. Jensie had added a feminine touch, with a picture or two and colored curtains. She had imported for them a southern negro cook who could make famous little meat pies and apple turn overs, the sort that melt in your mouth.
The place was, Johnny decided, to have very few rules, one was that this was a place for men only. Perhaps this rule was a mistake. One thing was sure, the student body had not, as yet, found their way in any great numbers to the Blue Moon, as Johnny and Jensie had named it. The place gave promise of being a prodigious failure.