“Then, Tom, let me suggest that you take off your cap. It’s usual in the best society.”
“I never was there,” said Tom; but she removed her cap. This revealed a mop of hair, tangled it is true, but of a beautiful brown shade. Her black eyes sparkled from beneath, giving a bright, keen look to her face, browned by exposure to all weathers. I regret to say that the face was by no means clean. If it had been, and the whole expression had not been so wild and untamed, Tom would certainly have been considered pretty. As it was, probably no one would have wasted a second glance upon the little street girl.
“What will you have, sir, you and the young lady?” asked the waiter, emphasizing the last word, with a grin at Tom.
“What will you have, Tom?” asked the captain.
“Beefsteak, cup o’ coffee, and bread-and-butter,” said Tom, glibly.
Her knowledge of dishes was limited; but she had tried these and liked them, and this guided her in the selection.
“Very good,” said Captain Barnes; “the same for me, with fried potatoes and an omelet.”
Tom stared at this munificent order. She fixed her black eyes meditatively upon her entertainer, and wondered whether he always indulged in such a superlatively square meal.
“What are you thinking about, Tom?” questioned the captain.
“You must be awful rich,” said Tom.