long before he had occasion enough to change his mind.

He ate the buckwheat cakes with a relish, and felt tolerably
satisfied.

"Anything more, sir?" asked the waiter.

Sam was about to say no, when his eye rested on that portion of the
bill devoted to pastry, and he changed his mind.

"Bring me a piece of mince-pie," he said.

Sam was sensible that he was ordering breakfast beyond his means, but
he vaguely resolved that he would content himself with a small dinner.
He really could not resist the temptation of the pie.

At last it was eaten, and the waiter brought him a ticket, bearing the
price of his breakfast, fifty cents. Now, for the first time, he felt
in his vest-pocket for his money. He felt in vain. Still he did not
suspect his loss.

"I thought I put it in my vest-pocket," he said to himself. "I guess I
made a mistake, and put it in some other."

He felt in another pocket, and still another, till he had explored
every pocket he possessed, and still no money.

Sam turned pale, and his heart gave a sudden thump, as the extent of
his misfortune dawned upon him. It was not alone that he was without
money in a strange city, but he had eaten rather a hearty breakfast,
which he was unable to pay for. What would they think of him? What
would they do to him? He saw it all now. That specious stranger,
Clarence Brown, had robbed him in his sleep. That was why he had
invited him to spend the night in his room without charge. That was
why he had got up so early and stolen out without his knowledge, after
he had purloined all his money.

Sam was not particularly bashful; but he certainly felt something like
it, as he walked up to the cashier's desk. A man stood behind it,
rather stout, and on the whole not benevolent in his looks. There was
no softness about his keen business face. Sam inferred with a sinking
heart that he was not a man likely to sympathize with him in his
misfortunes, or seem to give credence to them.

Sam stood at the counter waiting while the proprietor was making
change for another customer. He was considering what he could best say
to propitiate his creditor.

"Now, then," said the man behind the counter, a little impatiently,
for another had come up behind Sam, "where's your ticket?"

"Here, sir," said Sam, laying it on the counter.

"Fifty cents. Pay quick, and don't keep me waiting."

"I am very sorry, sir," Sam began, faltering, "but--"

"But what!" exclaimed the proprietor, wi