“I changed it to O. D. Don’t you think that’s better, George. Look at the way he’s rigged up,” interrupted Jimmy.
“You’re right, Jimmy. Where did you enlist from, O. D.?” asked Neil.
“He was drafted. But that don’t make any difference. Wasn’t his fault he didn’t volunteer. I got his whole story and it’s straight. He’s one of us from now on and I’m goin’ to get him in the outfit,” declared Jimmy.
“Good stuff—shake on that, O. D.,” and George Neil shook hands with the drafted man to show him how he felt.
“Messieurs, voluez-vous manger?” (Messieurs, will you eat?)
“Bet your life. Oui, mademoiselle, toot sweet,” answered McGee as he began getting chairs up to the table.
“Let those two mopes cushay. We’ll monjay and then call ’em out,” suggested Neil.
In answer to his suggestion the door of the room that he had been sleeping in opened and a bald head stuck out.
“Look out, Pop—cover that bald dome up. You’re too old to be goin’ ’round uncovered,” warned Jimmy.
“I’ll show you how old I am if I get skinned out of those poms and dey zerfs,” shot back Pop Rigney, as he pulled his bald head behind the protection of the door. He began talking to Joyce, who was still in bed, and the men at the table knew that Pop was warning him to dash for the table unless he wanted to starve.