“Coffee and cheese cake!”
“Coffee and franks for me!”
“Coffee! coffee! coffee!”
Dorothy was actually frightened. These men wanted breakfast, and had only a few minutes in which to get it. How could she wait on them?
Long arms were reached inside the open window, and cups and saucers brought down to wait for the coffee.
“I’m not the girl who—who—runs this place,” Dorothy said, timidly, as one very rough-looking man shouted again his order. “I only stepped in to—watch the place, until the other girl gets back. I do wish she would come,” and, filling a big pitcher with the coffee from the urn she placed it before the hungry men.
“But we can’t eat again until noon,” declared a big fellow, who spoke with the unmistakable Maine tang, “and this joint is run special for car men. I’ll have them folks reported,” and he brought his hand down on the counter so that the heavy cups danced.
“Oh, please don’t do that!” begged Dorothy, “for the young lady said her father was ill, and I am sure something important has detained her. I will do the very best I can.”
The train blew a warning whistle. Dorothy put everything she could find on the counter. “I’ll pay for it if I have to,” she was thinking. “Certainly I must avoid—a panic.”
A young man, well dressed, was coming along now. Her heart gave a great bound. What would he want?