“Here’s your bundle,” said Tom.
He took it, and handed Tom twenty-five cents, which she received with gratification, not having expected so much for carrying so small a bundle.
“Stay a moment,” said the sailor, as she was about to go away. “You haven’t had any breakfast, I think you said.”
“No.”
“Then you shall come in, and breakfast with me.”
This invitation astonished Tom not a little. It was the first invitation she had ever received to breakfast with a gentleman. French’s restaurant being higher priced than those which her class were in the habit of patronizing, she entered with some hesitation, not feeling quite sure how her entrance would be regarded by the waiters. She was not generally wanting in self-possession, but as she descended the stairs and entered the room, she felt awkward and out of her element.
CHAPTER VIII.
AT FRENCH’S HOTEL.
“Clear out of here!” said a waiter, arresting Tom’s progress, and pointing to the steps by which she had descended from the sidewalk.
If Tom had been alone, she would have felt bound to obey the summons; but being under the protection of Captain Barnes, who, she reflected, looked a good deal stronger than the waiter, she stood her ground.
“Did you hear what I said?” demanded the waiter angrily, about to take Tom by the shoulder.