"She's starting! I know I'm on the right boat, too. But I'm hungry and I wish I had something to eat."
There was nothing to be had on board the boat, but, although hungry, Jack could see enough to keep him from thinking about it.
"It's all city; and all wharves and houses and steeples,—every way you look," he said. "I'm glad to have seen it from the outside, after all."
Jack stared, but did not say a word to anybody until the ferry-boat ran into its dock.
"If I only had a piece of pie and a cup of coffee!" Jack was thinking, as he walked along by the wharves, ashore. Then he caught sight of the smallest restaurant he had ever seen. It was a hand-cart with an awning over it, standing on a corner. A placard hanging from the awning read:
"Clams, one cent apiece; coffee, five cents a cup."
"That's plain enough!" exclaimed Jack. "She can't put on a cent more for anything."
A stout, black-eyed woman stood behind a kind of table, at the end of the cart; and on the table there were bottles of vinegar and pepper-sauce, some crackers, and a big tin coffee-heater.
