He knew that tone of voice and obeyed. The two comrades followed her into the cozy bedroom.
"I vill haf to give you mein Herr's clothes, it's all I haf," and she smiled broadly.
"Thank you, Frau Scheff," replied Jim; "while ours are getting dry it will give us more room to eat."
"Aye, dot is a true wort," and she laughed with a jolly, shaking heartiness.
It was comical beyond words when they made the change in clothing, while Frau Scheff had gone to the front to help her husband to prepare the meal for the two guests. The engineer, who was short, was almost lost in the voluminous trousers of mein host, and could have easily tied them around his neck, while another pair came to half mast on the long-legged Jim, and were much too large so that they flapped like a sail.
"Talk about dressing for dinner, John, you ought certainly to be pleased," said Jim with a grin.
"No time for humor," declared the engineer; "I am too weak to laugh."
At this saying, he tripped in his newly acquired garments and fell full length, and Jim over him. They were both so exhausted from laughing they could scarcely get up. Jim was the first to arise and he helped up the other "end man," for that was the character the two suggested to each other. When they got in the quaint restaurant car, the proprietor accepted their appearance with professional gravity, only growling under his breath, "It's a wonder Lena didn't let them have mein best suit."
What a repast the two comrades found on the little round table in the corner, covered with a snowy cloth! Two big thick tender steaks well garnished with potato salad, the handiwork of Frau Lena Scheff, creamed potatoes, huge cups of delicious coffee and a grand finale of broad, sugar-frosted, German pancakes.
By the time this feast was finished their own garments were thoroughly dry, and as lightning change artists they appeared in their own clothes, renewed in body as well as in appearance.