“All right,” agreed Carrol, “we’ll wait.” At this Rose started to sit down in a convenient chair, but was hailed to his feet by the indignant George. “Hey! Watch out, you! Can’t sit down here! This room’s all set for a twelve o’clock banquet.” “I ain’t goin’ to hurt it,” said Rose resentfully. “I been through the delouser.” “Never mind,” said George sternly, “if the head waiter seen me here talkin’ he’d romp all over me.” “Oh.” The mention of the head waiter was full explanation to the other two; they fingered their overseas caps nervously and waited for a suggestion. “I tell you,” said George, after a pause, “I got a place you can wait; you just come here with me.” They followed him out the far door, through a deserted pantry and up a pair of dark winding stairs, emerging finally into a small room chiefly furnished by piles of pails and stacks of scrubbing brushes, and illuminated by a single dim electric light. There he left them, after soliciting two dollars and agreeing to return in half an hour with a quart of whiskey. “George is makin’ money, I bet,” said Key gloomily as he seated himself on an inverted pail. “I bet he’s making fifty dollars a week.” Rose nodded his head and spat. “I bet he is, too.” “What’d he say the dance was of?” “A lot of college fellas. Yale College.” They both nodded solemnly at each other. “Wonder where that crowda sojers is now?” “I don’t know. I know that’s too damn long to walk for me.” “Me too. You don’t catch me walkin’ that far.” Ten minutes later restlessness seized them. “I’m goin’ to see what’s out here,” said Rose, stepping cautiously toward the other door. It was a swinging door of green baize and he pushed it open a cautious inch. “See anything?” For answer Rose drew in his breath sharply. “Doggone! Here’s some liquor I’ll say!” “Liquor?” Key joined Rose at the door, and looked eagerly. “I’ll tell the world that’s liquor,” he said, after a moment of concentrated gazing. It was a room about twice as large as the one they were in--and in it was prepared a radiant feast of spirits. There were long walls of alternating bottles set along two white covered tables; whiskey, gin, brandy, French and Italian vermouths, and orange juice, not to mention an array of syphons and two great empty punch bowls. The room was as yet uninhabited. “It’s for this dance they’re just starting,” whispered Key; “hear the violins playin’? Say, boy, I wouldn’t mind havin’ a dance.” They closed the door softly and exchanged a glance of mutual comprehension. There was no need of feeling each other out. “I’d like to get my hands on a coupla those bottles,” said Rose emphatically. “Me too.” “Do you suppose we’d get seen?” Key considered. “Maybe we better wait till they start drinkin’ ’em. They got ’em all laid out now, and they know how many of them there are.”