“Certainly! Why not? Order just what you please.”
Joe stared from one to another as though he feared that his ears were deceiving him. Then his eyes fell on the waiter, whose professional dignity was sadly shocked by the presence before him of such an uncouth specimen.
“Gimme a great big hunk o’ bread an’ cheese an’ a piece o’ real apple pie, with no skimpin’ o’ the apples, neither,” he said, “an’ a glass o’ water twic’t. Thankin’ you kindly, mister; I won’t do nothin’ to that pile o’ grub when it comes.”
“And you may add to that order plenty of roast beef and potatoes,” added the captain. “I have an idea that our friend has a famous appetite.”
Joe Rodgers had never really lived until that afternoon. He seemed to be fairly lifted out of himself, and a side of life was revealed which he had never before dreamed could exist.
“Honest, Dave,” he declared emphatically, “I can’t never go back to Spudger’s.”
“We’ll see if anything can be done to help you,” said Dave, encouragingly. “But you ought not to have run away. Anyhow, fellows, I propose that we invite Joe to see the sights of Milwaukee from a seat in the motor car.”
Even Victor Collins made no objection. He was beginning to realize that character counts for more than appearance, and that the passport to respectable society consists of something besides good clothes.
Presently, leaving Captain Bunderley in the reading room, the boys walked briskly out upon the street.
At the garage Joe became immensely interested in the automobile.