Hanigan was a rattling good operator, but he was very
young and had a tendency to be too fresh on occasion.
He ordered us a fine lunch and while we were sitting there discussing
the good things, a big awkward looking chap came into the dining-room.
He was accompanied by a sweet, pretty looking little woman. She was a
regular beauty, and it needed but a glance to see that they were bride
and groom, and from the country. They had all the ear marks so apparent
in every bride and groom. They hesitated on the threshold a moment, and
the groom said very audibly:
"Dearest, this is the finest dining-room in the world," and "Dearest"
beamed on her liege lord in a manner that was very trustful and sweet.
Hanigan, idiot that he was, laughed outright. Dick and I both gave him a
savage kick under the table, but it didn't have any effect.
The head waiter brought the couple over and sat them down at our table,
and, say--that woman was as pretty as any that ever came down the pike.
Towards the end of the meal, Hanigan took his knife and fork and began
to telegraph to Stanley and me, making all sorts of fun about the
country pair.
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