As he was standing at the window a man from within came to the door. Being without a hat, Sam supposed him to be connected with the restaurant, as, indeed, he was. Sam drew back, supposing that he was to be sent off. But here he was mistaken. "Come here, Johnny," said the proprietor, for it was the owner of the restaurant who addressed our hero. Sam approached wondering. "Have you had dinner?" "No," said Sam, promptly. "Would you like some?" Sam's answer, in the affirmative, was equally prompt. "But you haven't any money, eh?" "That's so," said Sam. "Wonder how he found out?" he thought. "We don't give away dinners, but you can earn one," said Mr. Pipkin, for it was Pipkin's restaurant. "Do you want me for a waiter?" asked Sam, hopefully. "No; you wouldn't do. You haven't had experience. I want a boy to distribute handbills in front of the saloon. Can you do that?" "Yes, I can," said Sam, eagerly. "I've done that before." "All right. Come in." Sam entered. He hoped that a preliminary dinner would be offered him, but Mr. Pipkin was not in the habit of paying in advance, and, perhaps, he was right. He brought forward a pile of circulars about the same size as Dr. Graham's, and handed them to Sam. "I've just opened a new saloon," he said, "and I want to invite the patronage of the public. Stand here, and distribute these to the passers-by." "All right," said Sam. "When will you give me some dinner?" "In about an hour. This is the time when people generally dine, and I want to catch as many as I can." Sam read one of the circulars rapidly. This is the way it read: "PIPKIN'S DINING-ROOMS. Unsurpassed for the excellence of cookery, and the cheapness of prices. Call once, And you will be sure to come again." "I'm goin' to come once, and I'll call again if they'll let me," said Sam to himself. In about an hour he was called in. The customers had thinned out, but there were a few at the tables. Sam was directed to sit down at a table in the back part of the room. "Now, then," said the waiter, "hurry up, young 'un, and tell us what you want." "Roast turkey and cranberry sauce," ordered Sam. "All out. Try again," was the laconic reply. "Roast chicken." "That's all out too." Sam looked disappointed. "Oyster stew." "All out." "Is everything out?" "No; there's some roast veal, unless you prefer hash." "I don't like hash," said Sam, decidedly. "Bring on your veal, and don't forget the potatoes, and some bread and butter." "You've got a healthy appetite," said the waiter. "You bet I have, and I've a right to it. I've earned my dinner, and I want it." The articles he had ordered were brought, and he attacked them with vigor. Then he called for a second course. "A piece of mince-pie." "All out," said the waiter. "Apple-pie." "That's out." "I guess your customers all had healthy appetites to-day," said Sam. "Bring on something or other, and mind you bring enough of it."