crystal. Mr. Baker noted his look of astonishment.

"Don't you like ice water?" he asked.

"Yes, but I was wondering how in the world they ever got that big hunk
of ice through the little neck of that bottle."

"Oh," exclaimed Mr. Baker with a laugh, "they first fill the caraffe
with water, and then they freeze it in an ice machine they have on the
train for keeping the other supplies from spoiling. It would be rather
difficult to put that chunk of ice down through that narrow neck."

Roy understood now. He began to think he had lots to learn of the
world, but there was more coming. The waiter placed a menu card in
front of Mr. Baker, and laid one at Roy's plate. He knew what they
were, for he had several times taken dinner at a small hotel at Painted
Stone.

He was not prepared however for the queer language in which the menu
card or bill of fare was printed. It was French, and the names of the
most ordinary dishes were in that foreign tongue.

Roy was puzzled. He wanted a substantial meal, but he did not know how
to order it. He was afraid to try to pronounce the odd looking words,
and I am afraid if he had done so he would have made a mistake, as,
indeed, better educated persons than he would have done. He had a wild
notion of telling the waiter to bring everything on the bill of fare,
but there seemed to be too many dishes.

Finally he decided on a course to pursue. The waiter was standing
there, polite and all attention, for, though Roy's clothes did not
impress him as indicating a lad of wealth, Mr. Baker's attire was showy
enough to allow the colored man to think he might receive a handsome
tip.

"I think I'll have a ham sandwich and a cup of coffee," said Roy in
desperation. He knew he was safe in ordering that, even if it was not
on the card, though it might have been for all he knew, disguised under
some odd name.

Mr. Baker looked surprised.

"I should say you hadn't any appetite," he remarked. Then, as he
understood the situation, and Roy's embarrassment, he said: "Suppose I
order for both of us? I am used to this sort of thing."

Roy was grateful for this delicate way of putting it, and, with a sigh
of relief, he replied:

"I wish you would. I guess I've got a good appetite after all."

Thereupon Mr. Baker ordered a simple but substantial meal, including
soup, fish, roast beef, potatoes and side dishes of vegetables, ending
up with coffee and pie.

"This is fine!" exclaimed