“Come on,” agreed Ned. “We’ll go foraging.”
“Be sure you get back in time, children,” ordered Aunt Winnie.
But she expected Dorothy to keep her wits about her, whether the rest of them did or not. Near the railroad station there was nothing that appealed to Dorothy and Tavia—no restaurant, at least. But up a clean, bright little side street from the public square they saw a small, white painted house, with green doors and green window frames. Over the one big window beside the open door was a sign that read:
ORIENTAL LUNCH ROOM
“That looks nice,” said Dorothy.
“And look at that dear, old, clean colored Mammy!” gasped Tavia.
On the platform before the little restaurant was a large colored woman with a crimson bandana on her head, a spotless dress and white apron, and her sleeves rolled up to her fat elbows.
“I bet she can cook,” quoth Ned, with assurance.
“We’ll give the Oriental a whirl,” agreed Nat.
But just as they were crossing the street to go to the place, Tavia suddenly exclaimed: “Oh! there’s somebody in there.”