o look at the menu.
"Anything you order will suit me."

Although Marjorie had decided not to plague Lily again with the mention
of Frieda, she had by no means forgotten her. Accordingly, she followed
the proceeding she had adopted upon every occasion since she had entered
New York; she looked carefully at every young girl she saw, hoping that
it might prove to be Frieda.

As soon as her eyes became accustomed to the dim light, she peered
eagerly,--almost rudely, she was afraid--into the faces of the
waitresses. Suddenly, her heart stood still; at the far corner, near the
swinging door leading to the kitchen, stood a girl bearing a striking
resemblance to Frieda! Could Marjorie be dreaming--or was it possible
that the runaway had a double? She dared not trust her own eyes.

"Look, Lil!" she whispered. "Could that be Frieda, there?"

Lily followed the direction indicated by Marjorie, and saw a slim girl
in black, wearing a waitress's cap and apron. The girl was neat, and her
hair was tidy; indeed, one would have to stretch the imagination to
picture her as the one of the troop's adoption. And yet her
features--and something about her bearing were decidedly like Frieda.

"Oh, Frieda Hammer would never get a job in a place like this,"
remarked Lily, discouragingly. "They only employ refined girls here!"

Still not daunted, however, Marjorie half rose from her seat, but just
at that moment the waitress in question disappeared with a tray of
dishes.

Lily gave her order for hot chocolate with whipped cream, and fancy
cakes, to the waitress who stood at their table. "Does that suit you,
Marj?" she inquired.

"Yes, thanks!" replied Marjorie; but at that moment she would have
agreed to corned-beef and cabbage. She watched eagerly for the girl to
reappear; finally she was rewarded by seeing the two waitresses enter
together.

As her own girl came towards them, she leaned over and asked earnestly,

"Can you tell me the name of the waitress--over there?"

"Jennie Perkins," replied the girl, quietly.

Marjorie's face fell; she must be mistaken. Then an idea came to her;
perhaps it was Frieda, under an assumed name!

"Has she worked here long?" pursued Marjorie.

"I think so--but I've only been here a week myself, and she was here
when I came!"

The girl had disappeared again, and Marjorie turned reluctantly to her
refreshment. She kept watching the swinging door, hoping that the girl
would reappear and give her an