The officer drank two cups of coffee and ate a ham sandwich, two hard-boiled eggs, a plate of cakes and a piece of pie.
The girl and her brother each had a plate of cakes, a piece of pie and a glass of milk.
“What’s yours?” asked the waiter.
“Same,” said I.
As I did not care for the cakes, the officer cleaned the plate for me.
I didn’t have time to go to the school, but the officer assured me that he would “fix it,” and he winked knowingly, as if he had looked after such things before. He was kind, but determined, and I had confidence he would see that the little boy was duly admitted.
I started up the street alone.
They went the other way. The officer carried the little boy.
The girl with the shawl over her head followed, pulling the hand-sled, and on the sled rested the big, black Family Bible. I lost sight of them as they turned the corner.