"Better take beef stew," remarked Emmons, seizing some bread and eating
ravenously. "Get more if you're hungry."
Two beef stews were therefore ordered, and brought with a great clatter
of table ware. Emmons fell to as if he had not broken his fast that
day.
Ralph did not like the chicory coffee, though he did justice to the
stew. The crowd of rapid eaters, the noisy rush and yells of the
waiters, the steam fly fans, and the hard faced cashier, all excited
his curiosity.
Two checks were thrown down. Emmons pounced upon both, though Ralph
did not understand what they meant, until he saw the stable man lay
them, accompanied by two dimes, upon the desk at the door.
"Why did you not let me pay mine?" he asked.
"All right. Boss's orders."
The evening passed quietly, the foreman talking but little, though he
entertained Ralph for a time by playing on a French harp, or mouth
organ.
When bedtime came he ushered the boy into a sort of cubby hole behind
the office that was barely large enough to afford space for undressing
beside the bed. In five minutes Emmons was snoring lustily, though
Ralph lay long awake, thinking over the various phases of his situation
and prospects.
He was routed out early in the morning to help the foreman feed the
horses and mules in the stables underneath, and kept busy for an hour,
after which they took breakfast at the restaurant where they had
procured their supper.
About nine o'clock Captain Shard arrived in his buggy from his home in
the suburbs.
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