here to the stable
and hitting the hay for a couple of hours? Maybe the chap might give us
some coffee, too."

"More likely he'd set the dog on us at this time of morning," answered
Clint. And, to lend weight to his objection, a challenging bark came
across the field.

"Right-o," agreed Amy. "I didn't want any coffee, anyway. Isn't that a
sign-post ahead?"

It was a sign-post, looming black and forbidding, like a wayside gibbet,
where a second road turned to the left. "Wharton, 2 M--Levidge's Mills,
4 M--Custer, 6 M," they read with difficulty.

"We can do two miles in half an hour easily," said Amy. "Gee, I can
almost smell that coffee, Clint!"

They went on in the growing light, passing another farm-house presently
and another unfriendly dog. The greyness in the east became tinged with
rose. Birds sang and fluttered. A rabbit hopped nimbly across the road
ahead of them and disappeared, with a taunting flick of his little white
tail, in the bushes. Further on a chipmunk chattered at them from the
top of the wall and then, with long leaps, raced ahead to stop and eye
them inquiringly, finally disappearing with a last squeal of alarm. A
second sign-post renewed their courage. Wharton, it declared, was but a
mile distant. But that was a long, long last mile! They were no longer
sleepy, but their legs were very tired and the chilly breeze still bored
through their coats. But their journey came to an end at last.
Straggling houses appeared, houses with little gardens and truck patches
about them. Then came a factory building with row on row of staring
windows just catching the first faint glow of the sun. Then they crossed
a railroad and plunged into the town.

But it was a silent, empty town, for this was Sunday morning, and their
steps on the brick sidewalk echoed lonesomely. The awful thought that
perhaps there would be no eating-place open assailed them and drew a
groan of dismay from Amy. "Still," he declared, "if the worst comes to
the worst, we can break a window and get taken to jail. They feed you in
jail, don't they?" he added wistfully.

But near the centre of town a cheering sight met their anxious eyes. A
little man in a white apron was sweeping the doorway of a tiny
restaurant, yawning and pausing at intervals to gaze curiously toward
the approaching travellers. Before they reached him, however, his
curiosity either gave out or was sated, for, with a final tap of the
broom against the doorway, he disa