The purchasing took all that was left of the morning. The boys gathered their things into bundles and, at Tony’s command, made straightway for a restaurant. Being a senior, he claimed entire charge of these freshmen.
“You not respon—no; it is that you are irresponsible,” he said as he demanded the privilege of paying all expenses. “We will get,” he laughed, “some spaghetti and I show you to eat. You like eet?”
They did. The clean tables and pleasant interior were attractive. The boys stamped the newly fallen snow from their feet, and opened their coats to the genial warmth. Then they turned to meet the waiter and glanced up with something of a shock. Luigi Malatesta stood before them and addressed them collectively:
“I am proprietor of this. We serve only gentlemen. You will go to—to—to—elsewhere.”
Gus leaped up, forgetting the fright after his last fisticuffs. He wanted to punch this villain again.
“Listen, you confounded nuisance! This is a public place and we demand—” He got no further, for Tony’s hand was on his arm.
“Attendate, mio amico—wait! Would you eat eats in a such place? We might all getta the poison here. Mucho better we go of our selves.”
Malatesta beat a hasty retreat. The lads went out and along the street to another place equally attractive and there they ate unsparingly, the while discussing their latest experience, though Tony was silent on that. Finally Bill and Gus fell into his mood. They came out of the restaurant after an hour, to find that the storm had increased, a stiff, knife-edged wind driving the snow horizontally and making drifts. The taxi driver at the garage looked dubious, but agreed to try for Marshallton. The worst that could happen would be a night spent at some farmhouse.
The storm increased rapidly, the snow turning partly to sleet piled up in long windrows across all half-sheltered places, leaving open spots bare, so that the road resembled the storm waves of a white and foaming ocean. The car skidded along on icy ground one minute, and the next its wheels were buried in caked drifts.
The boys were peering out, watching the strange effects of the storm, but noting with greater concern the slowing up of the taxi. Then they stopped.