steaks and ham and corned-beef hash.

"Steak," he ventured, "and something like ham and eggs and some hot
cakes and coffee and--" He broke off. He was becoming too emotional
under this golden spread of opportunity. The girl glanced up from the
bill of fare and appraised the wild light in his eyes.

"One minute, Kid-let's be more restful at first. You know-kind of ease
into the heavy eats. It'll prob'ly be better for you."

"Anything you say," he conceded. Her words of caution had stricken him
with a fear that this was a dream; that he would wake up under blankets
back in the Crystal Palace. It was like that in dreams. You seemed able
to order all sorts of food, but something happened; it never reached the
table. He would take no further initiative in this scene, whether dream
or reality. "You order something," he concluded. His eyes trustfully
sought the girl's.

"Well, I think you'll start with one orange, just to kind of hint to
the old works that something good is coming. Then--lemme see"--she
considered gravely. "Then I guess about two soft-boiled eggs--no, you
can stand three--and some dry toast and some coffee. Maybe a few thin
strips of bacon wouldn't hurt. We'll see can you make the grade." She
turned to give the order to a waitress. "And shoot the coffee along,
sister. A cup for me, too."

Her charge shivered again at the mere mention of coffee. The juncture
was critical. He might still be dreaming, but in another moment he must
know. He closely, even coolly, watched the two cups of coffee that were
placed before them. He put a benumbed hand around the cup in front of
him and felt it burn. It was too active a sensation for mere dreaming.
He put sugar into the cup and poured in the cream from a miniature
pitcher, inhaling a very real aroma. Events thus far seemed normal.
He stirred the coffee and started to raise the cup. Now, after all, it
seemed to be a dream. His hand shook so that the stuff spilled into the
saucer and even out on to the table. Always in dreams you were thwarted
at the last moment.

The Montague girl had noted the trembling and ineffective hand. She
turned her back upon him to chat with the waitress over by the food
counter. With no eye upon him, he put both hands about the cup and
succeeded in raising it to his lips. The hands were still shaky, but he
managed some sips of the stuff, and then a long draught that seemed to
scald him. He wasn't sure if it scalded or not. It was pretty ho