At that instant a savory smell was wafted to him. He was passing a small restaurant, where sausages and onions sizzled gratefully in large, tin trays, and pork chops lay in inviting prodigality amid rich, brown gravy. The proprietor, a portly and greasy man, with bald head and side whiskers, was standing at the door exchanging views as to business with his next-door neighbor, a greengrocer. Philip, bold in the knowledge of his wealth, resolved to try what he could achieve on credit. He walked up to the pair. "I have not got any money just now," he said to the restaurant keeper, "but if you will let me have something to eat I will gladly come back this afternoon and pay you double." Neither man spoke at first. Philip was always unconscious of the quaint discrepancy between his style of speech and his attire. He used to resent bitterly the astonishment exhibited by strangers, but to-day he was far removed above these considerations, and he backed up his request by a pleasant smile. The fat man grew apoplectic and turned his eyes to the sky. "Well, I'm----" he spluttered. The greengrocer laughed, and Philip blushed. "Do you refuse?" he said, with his downright manner and direct stare. "Well, of all the cool cheek----" The stout person's feelings were too much for him. He could find no other words. "It is a fair offer," persisted the boy. "You don't think I mean to swindle you, surely?" "Well, there! I never did!" But the greengrocer intervened. "You're a sharp lad," he guffawed. "D'ye want a job?" "No," was the short reply. "I want something to eat." "Dash my buttons, an' you're a likely sort of kid to get it, too. In you go. I'll pay the bill. Lord lumme, it'll do me good to see you." "Mr. Judd, are you mad?" demanded his neighbor, whose breath had returned to him. "Not a bit of it. The bloomin' kid can't get through a bob's worth if he bursts himself. 'Ere, I'll bet you two bob 'e pays up." "Done! Walk in, sir. Wot'll you be pleased to 'ave, sir?" Philip's indignation at the restaurant keeper's sarcasm yielded to his wish to see him annihilated later in the day. Moreover, the sausages really smelt excellently, and he was now ravenous. He entered the shop, and gave his orders with a quiet dignity that astounded the proprietor and hugely delighted the greengrocer, who, in the intervals of business, kept peeping at him through the window. Philip ate steadily, and the bill amounted to ninepence, which his ally paid cheerfully. The boy held out his hand. "Thank you, Mr. Judd," he said, frankly. "I will return without fail. I will not insult you by offering more than the amount you have advanced for me, but some day I may be able to render you good service in repayment." Then he walked off toward the viaduct steps, and Mr. Judd looked after him.