“I am sure I saw the sign of a funny little restaurant as we came by the corner,” broke in Lillian.  “It did look queer, but I suppose it would not be any harm for us to go in there.”

“We don’t care if it does look queer,” declared Phyllis stoutly.

Turning, the girls retraced their steps to the corner.

Outside the swinging door of the small restaurant they hesitated.  “I don’t think we ought to go in there,” argued Eleanor, “it is such a dreadfully rough-looking place.”

It was indeed a very common eating house, where the men who worked on the wharves, the fishermen and sailors, were in the habit of getting their meals.  The one dirty window showed half a dozen live crabs crawling about inside among the pieces of sea-weed.  A row of old pies formed the background.

A moment later they had marched bravely up to the door.  Dainty Eleanor shuddered as they crossed the threshold, and even Phil and Madge hesitated as a man’s coarse laugh greeted them once they were fairly inside the restaurant room.

“Come on, children,” said Madge, with a pretence of bravery she was far from feeling.  “We are going into this restaurant to get something to eat.  Don’t look as if you thought you were going to be eaten.  It is rather horrid, but perhaps they will let us have some bread and milk.”

The quartette seated themselves at the first table they saw vacant.  Just across from it were a number of men with rough, hard faces.  They were evidently sailors from the nearby boats.  The girls kept their eyes on the table, and Madge gave their order for tea and sandwiches in a low tone to the German boy who came forward to wait on them.

When the boy had departed with their order a silence settled upon the little group of girls.  In each girl’s mind was the thought that it had been unwise to enter the restaurant.  By this time they had come to a realization of the fact that they were the only women in the room.

“We ought never to have come here,” whispered Lillian, clutching Madge’s arm.

“Nonsense,” returned Madge bravely, “we have as much right here as any of these men.”

“But I’d rather not stay,” persisted Lillian.

“Didn’t you say you were hungry?” asked Madge pointedly.

“Ye-es,” hesitated Lillian, “but I just can’t stay here.”

“Nor I,” chimed in Eleanor.

Madge looked appealingly at Phyllis, who shook her brown head deprecatingly.  “I don’t believe we ought to stay here, Madge.”

“You, too, Phil!” exclaimed Madge impatiently.  “All right, Misses ‘Fraid Cats,’ we’ll go.  Here comes our luncheon, too.”

The girls glanced quickly at the rosy-faced lad who came up at that moment with their order on a tray.

“I’m so hungry,” sighed Phil.  “Perhaps we’d better——­”

“So glad you’ve changed your mind,” commented Madge rather satirically.  “But what about you, Lillian and Eleanor?”