the window was a big gas stove on which a man, in a white uniform and cap, was browning some buckwheat cakes. They looked so good they made Ned's mouth fairly water.
"I'm going to have some," he decided. "It will take fifteen cents, if I get coffee with them, but it's worth it. I'll make this meal do for dinner too. But supper—"
Ned did not dare carry his thoughts further. All he knew was that he was very hungry, and at least he had money enough to pay for a simple meal. Supper must take care of itself.
"Maybe I can get a night's lodging at some free place, and save the rest of my money for supper and breakfast to-morrow," Ned thought to himself as he entered the restaurant.
He ordered a plate of the cakes and some coffee, and could hardly wait until the girl had placed them on the table in front of him. He got a small pitcher of what passed for maple syrup, and there was a plate of butter from which all at the table helped themselves.
Ned finished the cakes in short order. The coffee was hot if nothing else, but Ned was surprised at the small place in his big appetite which the cakes filled. He almost felt like ordering more but decided it would be rash to reduce his capital
