CHAPTER XXIII
NED'S PREDICAMENT
When Ned awakened Thursday morning in the lodging house and, on looking from the window saw that it was snowing, his unpleasant position came forcibly to him.
"This is nice," he reflected as he put on his shoes. "It's as cold as Greenland out of doors, and I'm down to—let's see what my cash capital is, anyhow."
He fumbled in the change pocket of his overcoat, and found a few coins.
"Thirty cents," he murmured as he looked at them. "There's enough for three five-cent meals, and enough to pay for a bed to-night. I'll need the bed too, if this storm keeps up."
He finished dressing and went to the window to look out. It was anything but a pleasant day on which to look for work. The wind had blown the snow into big drifts, and the white flakes were still falling. It was cold too, as he could tell by the draught that came in around the window.
"Come now, everybody clear out!" called a voice, and one of the porters of the lodging house appeared with a pail and broom. Got to clean up the place. Fifteen cents doesn't mean you fellers can make a hotel of this place and hang around all day. Clear out!"
"Can't we stay until it stops snowin'?" asked one of the men, who were crowded around the big stove in the sleeping room.
"You kin if you pay for another night's lodging," was the answer. "What do you think this is, the Salvation Army or the Y.M.C.A.? If you want free graft go there. You has to pay for what you gits here. Clear out!"
There was no help for it. Those who hoped to remain in away from the storm, where it was at least warm, though not very inviting, were doomed to disappointment. A few, who had the money, paid for another night's lodging, which gave them the privilege of remaining in during the day.
Ned had half a notion to do this, but he reflected he might find a place to work which would be so far from the lodging house that he could not conveniently return. So he decided to save his money until he could find out what the day might hold for him.
With scores of other unfortunates he left the warm room and went out into the cold. He was glad he was well clothed and that he still had his overcoat. How long he could keep it, before he would have to pawn it for food, he did not know. He almost decided to go back to the hotel where he had first stayed and see if they knew anything about his valise. That had ten dollars in it. Then the thought of the detective deterred him.
"If I had the four dollars the lodging house proprietor stole from me I'd think I was rich," he murmured. "But I wouldn't dare go back after it. He'd have me arrested sure! Though I may have to submit to that to get a warm place to sleep and something to eat, if I don't get work soon," he added.
It was very cold. As soon as Ned got out into the street, where he could feel the full sweep of the wind he shivered though his overcoat was a thick one. The snow was blown into his face with stinging force.
"As long as it doesn't make any difference which way I go I may as well have the wind at my back," he reasoned as he turned and walked in the opposite direction. "That's more comfortable, at any rate," he continued. "Now I must get something to eat, if it's only a cup of coffee."
He walked on until he saw a restaurant. In the window was a big gas stove on which a man, in a white uniform and cap, was browning some buckwheat cakes. They looked so good they made Ned's mouth fairly water.
"I'm going to have some," he decided. "It will take fifteen cents, if I get coffee with them, but it's worth it. I'll make this meal do for dinner too. But supper—"
Ned did not dare carry his thoughts further. All he knew was that he was very hungry, and at least he had money enough to pay for a simple meal. Supper must take care of itself.
"Maybe I can get a night's lodging at some free place, and save the rest of my money for supper and breakfast to-morrow," Ned thought to himself as he entered the restaurant.
He ordered a plate of the cakes and some coffee, and could hardly wait until the girl had placed them on the table in front of him. He got a small pitcher of what passed for maple syrup, and there was a plate of butter from which all at the table helped themselves.
Ned finished the cakes in short order. The coffee was hot if nothing else, but Ned was surprised at the small place in his big appetite which the cakes filled. He almost felt like ordering more but decided it would be rash to reduce his capital to five cents. As it was now, when he had paid for his breakfast, he would have fifteen cents left out of the thirty.
With the pasteboard check which the girl had left at his plate, in his hand, Ned approached the cashier's desk in the front part of the restaurant. His fingers went into the change pocket of his overcoat, searching for the money. He could feel nothing but the lining. A blank look came over his face. He was sure he had put the money back into that pocket as he finished counting it when he sat on the edge of his bed. Yet it was not there. Hurriedly he felt in all his other pockets.
Meanwhile several customers behind him were impatiently waiting to pay their checks.
"One side," said the cashier in a gruff tone, as he saw Ned fumbling through his pockets. "What's the matter with you? Left your memory home?"
"I think I've lost my money," Ned answered, his voice trembling a little.
"Then you've got another think coming," the clerk said in an ugly tone. "I've heard that story before."
"What story?" asked Ned.
"About forgetting your money. Left it in the bank I s'pose, or home on the pianer, or you've got to have a check cashed. What is it, speak quick, I've got no time to fool."
While he was talking, the man was busy making change for other customers who walked past Ned.
"Do you mean that you think I'm trying to cheat you?" asked the boy.
"I don't mean anything if you pay for what you've eaten. If you don't pay—well—there's a cop just around the corner, and we've had your same kind in here before."
By this time Ned stood alone in front of the desk, as the line of waiting men had passed out.
"I had my money when I came in here," said the boy. "Or at least I think I did. I had it a little while before, I'm sure, for I counted it. There was thirty cents—"
"That's what you look like now," the cashier interrupted, with a coarse laugh at his joke. "It'll be thirty days for yours if you don't settle up."
"But I haven't got the money," replied poor Ned.
"Then you shouldn't have eaten anything. Do you think we're feedin' beggars here?"
"I thought I had the money when I ordered the cakes," Ned replied, staring helplessly at the fifteen cent check in his hand.
"Say, young feller, that's too thin. It don't go here any more. I've been stung too often with that yarn. You'll pay for your grub or you'll be arrested, see? Have you got the money; yes or no?"
"I haven't—but if—"
"Yes, if we let you go you'll stop in on your way from the bank and give us a check! No you don't! A fellow gave me that song and dance last week. Jim, call the cop," and the cashier nodded to one of the men waiters.
"Are you going to have me arrested?" exclaimed Ned.
"That's what I am. It's a criminal offense to order a meal, eat it, and not pay for it."
Ned did not know what to do.