Coffee and clams.
"Clams?" she repeated. "Half-dozen, on the shell? Coffee? All right."
"That's all I want, thank you," said Jack, and she at once filled a cup from the coffee-urn and began to open shellfish for him.
"These are the smallest clams I ever saw," thought Jack; "but they're good."
They seemed better and better as he went on eating; and the woman willingly supplied them. He drank his coffee and ate crackers freely, and he was just thinking that it was time for him to stop when the black-eyed woman remarked, with an air of pride,
"Nice and fresh, ain't they? You seem to like them,—thirteen's a dozen; seventeen cents."
"Have I swallowed a dozen already?" said Jack, looking at the pile of shells. "Yes, ma'am, they're tiptop!"
After paying for his supper, there were only some coppers left, besides four one-dollar bills, in his pocket-book.
"Which way's the Battery, ma'am?" Jack asked, as she began to open clams for another customer.
"Back there a way. Keep straight on till you see it," she answered; adding kindly, "It's like a little park; I didn't know you were from the country."