he had no place, and the contemplation of his loneliness caused him to
grow very sober.

As the pangs of hunger were added to his general feeling of
helplessness, for a moment he thought of returning to his guardian, but
only for a moment. As he left the letter in his pocket and remembered
the awful stigma his guardian had tried to cast upon his dead father,
his pride arose.

"I will never go back there!" he told himself. "I have money in my
pocket, and I can get something to eat. Then I'll go over to one of the
stations in Jersey City and find some place to sleep. Perhaps there'll
even be a train going out West to-night that will carry me part way to
Oklahoma."

Coming forth from the pile of boxes from which he had sought in vain to
catch a glimpse of his friend, the reporter, Bob walked up the street
until he came to a restaurant, brilliantly lighted, and with a sign
standing in the door from which the words: "Pork and Beans, 15 cents a
plate," stared at him invitingly.

Dearly did Bob love pork and beans, but only occasionally had his
guardian provided them, and then in such small quantities that the boy
had never been able to eat all he wanted, and oftentimes had he
promised himself that some day he would have his fill. Consequently, as
he read the sign, he determined to gratify his desire, and timidly
entered the restaurant, where there were stools in front of a high
counter and tables along the wall, upon which stood an array of food
that amazed him, accustomed, as he had been, to living on almost
nothing.

Making his way diffidently to one of the tables, he sat down. In a
moment a waitress, in what seemed to him a dazzlingly white and gorgeous
dress, approached, and, with a smile, asked:

"What will you have?"

"Beans, please, and lots of them."

"And brown bread, too?" asked the waitress.

The thought of this with his beans had never entered Bob's head, and as
it was suggested to him, he felt a great longing for it. Yet as no
mention of it had been made on the sign that had attracted him to the
restaurant, he feared it might be too expensive. But the more he thought
of it, the more he wanted it, and finally he stammered:

"How much does it cost?"

"Five cents a slice."

"Then you may bring me two slices," replied the boy, laying emphasis
upon the word "two."

"Coffee or tea?"

"I don't believe I'll have either," said Bob, feeling that his
expenditure of twenty-five cents was all that he could