The first thrill of excitement wore off after a half-hour or so, and Sam, tired of watching the view from the car window, picked up the magazine he had bought and settled back to read. The train was not a fast one, and it stopped at a good many stations and seemed disinclined at each to take up its journey again. Nevertheless, it eventually did arrive at East Mendon, and Sam anxiously collected his belongings and alighted. Inquiries elicited the information that the stage started at two o’clock from the other side of the platform, shortly after the arrival of the through express. Consequently Sam had a full two hours and a half to wait. He checked his bag and coat at the station and started out in search of dinner. East Mendon was a small place, hardly more than a full-grown village, and his choice of eating-places was not large. The Commercial Hotel seemed to be the principal hostelry, but Sam knew that if he went there he would have to pay at least seventy-five cents for his meal, and seventy-five cents was about fifty cents more than he cared to spend. At last, on a side street, he came across a small and dingy restaurant which advertised the principal dishes of the day’s menu on a blackboard outside. Sam, his feet spread well apart and his hands in his trousers pockets, studied the list thoughtfully. “Beef Stew with Dumplings, 15 cents.” “Corn Beef Hash with Bread and Butter, 15 cents.” “Baked White Fish and Fried Potatoes, 20 cents.” “Ribs of Beef with Browned Potatoes, 25 cents.” “Vegatable Soup with Bread and Butter, 10 cents.” Sam’s eyes twinkled. “Me for that, I guess,” he said to himself. “Vegetable soup with two A’s sounds good. And maybe a cup of good hot coffee and a piece of pie. I’m not awfully hungry, anyhow.” The “vegatable” soup was good and there was plenty of it, and even if the bread proved so crumbly that he found himself breading the butter instead of buttering the bread, he made out very well. But the good coffee didn’t materialize. There was coffee, and it was hot, but Sam couldn’t pronounce it good. Nor was the pie much better. He suspected the little shock-haired proprietor of having held and cherished that pie for a long, long time!