"
Between the castor bottles was the bill of fare, held by a thin string
between two immense leather covers which were stamped with wine
merchants' advertisements. Geary reached for this before any of the
others, saying at the same time, "Well, what are you going to have?
_I'm_ going to have a Welsh rabbit and a pint of ale." He looked from
one to the other as if demanding whether or no they approved of his
choice. He assumed the management of what was going on, advising the
others what to have, telling Vandover not to order certain dishes that
he liked because it took so long to cook them. He had young Haight ring
for the waiter, and when he had come, Geary read off the entire order to
him twice over, making sure that he had taken it correctly. "That's what
we want all right, all right--isn't it?" he said, looking around at the
rest.
The waiter, whose eyes were red from lack of sleep, put down before them
a plate of limp, soft shrimps.
"Hello, Toby!" said Vandover.
"Good evening, gentlemen," answered Toby. "Why, good evening, Mr.
Vandover; haven't seen you 'round here for some time.
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