With quick sympathy the girl listened, and, as he concluded, exclaimed tenderly: 

“You poor kid!  I’m sure glad you happened to drop in here.  I’ve got a sister living out in Chicago, whose husband runs as far as Kansas City on a freight train.  I’ll give you a note to her, and her man will give you a lift, and probably he can arrange with some of the men he knows to carry you west from Kansas City.”

“That will be very kind of you,” returned Bob.  “It seems as though strangers are kinder to me than people I’ve known all my life.”

“That’s often the way,” exclaimed the girl, as she rose and went up to the desk in the front of the restaurant, where she obtained some paper, an envelope, and pen and ink, which she brought back to Bob’s table.

It was evident from the slowness with which her self-imposed task advanced that the girl was more ready with her kind-hearted sympathy than with her pen.  But at last the missive was finished, and she gave it to Bob.

“Don’t forget that address:  ’South 101st Street, on the left-hand corner, in a big, yellow brick building.’  It’s on the side of the street nearest New York, and the name is Mrs. John Cameron.”

Gratefully Bob took the letter, which he placed with the one written by his father, and as he did so he asked: 

“I wonder how much it costs to get to Chicago?”

“Depends on how you travel.  You can go in a plain car for about ten or eleven dollars.  That is on one of the round-about railways, at cut rates.  Or, you can pay between fifty and seventy-five dollars for a state-room.”

“Oh, goody!  If it only costs ten dollars, I can get out there all right, and still have some money left.”

“I’m glad of that.  Now, you sit here a few minutes, and I’ll put up a lunch for you, and then you won’t have to buy any food while you are on the train.  They always charge a lot more on trains or in station restaurants than they ought to.”

“Hadn’t I better pay you now?” inquired Bob.

“No.  You wait until I bring the box of lunch.  The boss hasn’t noticed how much you had to eat, and he’ll think it’s all on the check I will ring in.”

“But that isn’t exactly right, is it?” protested Bob.

“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.”