“It’s the best ever.”

“I think so—possibly with a few exceptions.”

“She’s the queerest lot yet, is this kid,” and the big bluecoat jerked
his thumb toward the girl.

I suggested that we go to the restaurant across the way and get a bite
of something to eat.

“I’m not hungry,” said the officer, “but the youngsters look as if
they hadn’t et since day before yesterday.”

We lined up at the counter.

The officer drank two cups of coffee and ate a ham sandwich, two
hard-boiled eggs, a plate of cakes and a piece of pie.

The girl and her brother each had a plate of cakes, a piece of pie and
a glass of milk.

“What’s yours?” asked the waiter.

“Same,” said I.

As I did not care for the cakes, the officer cleaned the plate for me.

I didn’t have time to go to the school, but the officer assured me
that he would “fix it,” and he winked knowingly, as if he had looked
after such things before. He was kind, but determined, and I had