“Yes, do,” urged Bob, and he glanced appealingly at his chums. They did not have the heart to plague him further, and with a laugh, at which the girl seemed much relieved, Jerry clapped his stout companion on the back, and linked arms with him.
“I believe I can take something myself,” spoke Ned. “Bob, you do the ordering, and then we’ll go to the hotel, and try to forget our troubles in sleep.”
They drew the tall stools up to the marble-topped lunch counter, and the girl, evidently much relieved, and pleased at so many customers at that hour, began setting out plates, spoons, knifes and other table utensils in front of them.
“Chicken pies!” exclaimed Bob, rubbing his hands as he scanned the bill of fare. “That sounds good. We’ll start with them.”
“I think I will take some fruit first,” said the professor. “Those bananas look tempting,” and he motioned to some under a glass cover.
“Just help yourself to them, please,” invited the lunch girl. “I’ll put the chicken pies in the oven to heat.”
Mr. Snodgrass lifted the cover off the bananas, and, as he did so he uttered one of his usual cries of delight.
“There it is! There it is!” he exclaimed. “Oh, what a beauty, and such a long tail! Oh, I must get that! Look out boys! Don’t let it get away.”
“Oh, what is it?” screamed the girl. “It’s a mouse, I know it is! Oh, a mouse! A mouse! Father, come quickly!” and she leaped upon a small stool, and thence to the broad shelf back of the lunch counter, while Professor Snodgrass clapped a specimen box down over something amid the bananas.