You notice I'm not drinkin' this fire-water. I made
two of 'em for company's sake, but I still turn my back on the wine
when it's pink. Not for me--not for little Dicky-bird."
"I don't see how you do it, Dick," cried David delightedly.
"That's part of my game, kid--not letting people see how I do
anything. But it's as simple as rollin' off a log, as the jays say. I
must confess--and that is something I make it a rule never to do--that
this high living is not good for me. I'll get into awful habits, if I
keep it up. I won't be satisfied with pretzels and bologny sausages.
Seems to me I feel a touch of the gout coming on now."
"You will have breakfast with me in the dining-room to-morrow morning,
Dick," announced the master of the house. "It won't be necessary to
swipe it, as you call it."
Dick grinned. "My dear chap," he mimicked, "I have my breakfast stowed
away in the garret at this minute. Never put off till to-morrow what
you ought to do to-day. In time of plenty prepare for famine. Still,
if you insist, I'll join you at some ham and eggs--and coffee. I _do_
miss my coffee, old chap.
Pages:
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376