"Well, I'll make it right with the boss."
So well were things working out for him, that it seemed to Bob that he must be in a dream, but the sight of the people and objects about him told him that it was indeed a reality.
In due course the kind waitress returned, bringing a sizeable box, tightly tied, which she placed on the table before him.
"Here, kiddo, I wish you good luck," she said. "I must leave you now, because I've got some more work to do."
"But you must tell me your name," insisted Bob, looking at her with his eyes filled with gratitude. "I'm coming back from the West a rich man, and I shall want to look you up and repay you for your kindness."
"I hope you strike it fine, kid," laughed the girl, "but I am afraid if you do, you'll never think of looking up Nellie Porter. Oh, by the way, do you know to which station to go?"
"No, I don't," admitted Bob.
"Well, if you want to get a plain car, you want to go over to Weehawken and buy your ticket over the West Shore railroad."
And giving Bob a check for his food, the girl smiled upon him pleasantly, and hurried away to wait upon some other people who had entered the restaurant.
