And, indeed, the unpretending little building was a distinct rest to the eye, after the proud proportions of its surroundings. As the statues spoke of the future, the convent reminded one of the past.
Entering the Casino brought them back sharply to the present, with its needs and its inconveniences. The prosaic need for dinner was the first to be thought of, and, enormous as was the restaurant, the crowd that night filled every seat, and left plenty of stragglers to stand watchfully about, eager to fill themselves and any vacant chair.
“Boys,” said the tutor, sadly, “if we stand here an hour, it will be only a piece of luck if we find a place. Where shall we go?”
“I heard a man say that there was a lunch-counter in the southeastern corner of the Manufactures, etc., etc., Building,” said Harry. “This is no time for French bills of fare and finger-bowls. Come, let’s go over there.”
No one cared to argue the question, and, keeping the lake on their right, they crossed to the largest building, and found a primitive lunch-counter on the ground floor. Boys and rough-looking men, perched on high stools, shouted out orders to “girls” from eighteen to fifty years old.
“HE’S A COW-BOY.”
After waiting a few minutes, Mr. Douglass found a seat, which the boys insisted he should take, and a little later they found two together. The man who left the seat Harry crowded into had on a wide-brimmed felt hat, the edges of which had been perforated all around in openwork.
“He’s a cow-boy,” Harry whispered in delighted tones.
Meanwhile Philip was trying to attract the attention of the very stout and independent young girl who waited upon that section of the counter. He raised his hand, but she only sneered and remarked, “I see yer!” which brought a roar of laughter from some talkative customers. Soon, however, she condescended to turn an ear in the boys’ direction, and they succeeded in ordering two sandwiches and two cups of coffee. When they had finished, Harry said, “Phil, we’ll forgive the sandwiches for the sake of the coffee!”