You Should Worry Says John Henry | Page 8

so patriotic she eats only in United States, so cut out the Moulin Rouge lyrics and let's get down to cases. How much will it set me back if I order a plain steak--just enough to flirt with two very polite appetites?"
"Nine dollars and seventy cents," said Joan of Arc's brother Bill; "the seventy cents is for the steak and the nine dollars will help some to pay for the Looey the Fifteenth furniture in the bridal chamber."
"Save the money, John," whispered Peaches, "and we'll buy a pianola with it."
"How about a sliver of roast beef with some simple vegetable," I said to the waiter. "Is it a bull market for an order like that?"
"Three dollars and forty-two cents," answered Henri of Navarre; "forty-two cents for the order and three dollars to help pay for the French velvet curtains in the golden suite on the second floor."
"Keep on guessing, John; you'll wear him out," Peaches whispered.
"Possibly a little cold lamb with a suggestion of potato salad on the side might satisfy us," I said; "make me an estimate."
"Four dollars and eighteen cents," replied Patsey Boulanger; "eighteen cents for the lamb and salad and the four dollars for the Looey the Fifteenth draperies in the drawing-room."
"Ask him if there's a bargain counter anywhere in the dining-room," whispered Peaches.
"My dear," I said to friend wife, "we have already displaced about sixty dollars' worth of space in this dyspepsia emporium, and we must, therefore, behave like gentlemen and order something, no matter what the cost. What are the savings of a lifetime compared with our honor!"
The waiter bowed so low that his shoulder blades cracked like a whip.
"Bring us," I said, "a plain omelet and one dish of prunes."
I waited till Peter Girofla translated this into French and then I added, "And on the side, please, two glasses of water and three toothpicks. Have the prunes fricasseed, wash the water on both corners, and bring the toothpicks rare."
The waiter rushed away and all around us we could hear money talking to itself.
Fair women sat at the tables picking dishes out of the bill of fare which brought the blush of sorrow to the faces of their escorts. It was a wonderful sight, especially for those who have a nervous chill every time the gas bill comes in.
When we ate our modest little dinner the waiter presented a check which called for three dollars and thirty-three cents.
"The thirty-three cents is for what you ordered," Alexander J. Dumas explained, "and the three dollars is for the French hangings in the parlor."
"Holy Smoke!" I cried; "that fellow Looey the Fifteenth has been doing a lot of work around here, hasn't he?" But the waiter was so busy watching the finish of the change he handed me that he didn't crack a smile.
Then I got reckless and handed him a fifty-cent tip.
The waiter looked at the fifty cents and turned pale.
Then he looked at me and turned paler.
He tried to thank me, but he caught another flash of that plebeian fifty and it choked him.
Then he took a long look at the half-dollar and with a low moan he passed away.
In the excitement I grabbed Peaches and we flew for home.
The next time I go to one of those expensive shacks it will be just after I've had a hearty dinner.
Even at that I may change my mind and go to a moving picture show.
CHAPTER IV
YOU SHOULD WORRY ABOUT GETTING A GOAT
Hep Hardy's goat belongs to the chamois branch of that famous family.
When it gets out it wants to leap from crag to crag.
Hep's chamois got loose recently and, believe me, I never saw a goat perform to better advantage.
For a long time Hep has been in love with Clarissa Goober, the daughter of Pop Goober, who made millions out of the Flower-pot Trust. Of late, however, Hep's course of true love has been running for Sweeney, and my old pal has been staring at the furniture and conversing with himself a great deal.
[Illustration]
On our way home night before last Hep and I dropped into the Saint Astormore for a cocktail, and at a table near us sat Pop Goober and something else which afterwards turned out to be a Prussian nobleman--the Count Cheese von Cheese.
When Hep got a flash of these two his goat kicked down the door of its box-stall and began cavorting all over the Western Hemisphere.
"Pipe!" he whispered hoarsely, "pipe Pop Goober and the human germ with him! It's a titled foreigner--honest it is! It can walk and say, 'Papa!' And it is trained to pick out a millionaire father-in-law at fifty paces!"
"Why, what's the matter, Hep?" I inquired after the waiter had vamped.
"Oh, I'm wise to these guys with the Gorgonzola titles all wrapped up in pink tissue paper and only $8