of a typical southern town. It was Berneau, North Carolina, according to the signs, they saw.
"Here's a restaurant," called Tom, as they passed a neat-appearing one. "Let's go inside and get some supper before we buy our supplies."
"Good!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "Bless my flapjacks, but I am beginning to feel hungry."
The, eating place was a good one, and Tom's predictions about their being taken for strangers was verified, for, no sooner had they given their orders than the pretty, white girl, who waited on the table remarked:
"Ah reckon yo' all are from th' no'th; aren't yo'?"
She smiled, as she spoke, and Tom smiled back as he acknowledged it.
"Have you a paper—a newspaper I could look at?" he asked.
"Ah guess Ah can find one," went on the girl. "Ah reckon yo' all are from N' York. N' Yorkers are so desperant bent on readin' th' news." Her tones were almost like those of a colored person.
"Yes, we're from a part of New York," was Tom's reply.
When a newspaper was brought to him, after they had nearly finished their meal, the young inventor rapidly scanned the pages. Something on
