"Are you—are you hungry?" asked Betty, bluntly.
"I am!" He spoke decidedly.
"Then perhaps—I'm sure we have more here than we can eat—and we'll soon—I mean comparatively soon—be at a friend's house—perhaps—"
She hesitated.
"I would be very glad," and again the man bowed.
Betty opened the little satchel—it was a miniature suitcase—and a veritable wealth of lunch was disclosed. There were sandwiches without number, pickles, olives, chunks of cake, creamy cheese—
"Are you sure you can spare it?" asked the man. "I'm sure I don't want to—"
"Of course we can spare it," put in Mollie, quickly.
"Well then I will admit that I am hungry," spoke the unknown. "I am not exactly what I seem," he added.
Betty glanced curiously at him.