"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."
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?"
"Let's stay this once, but next time we'll be more careful where we lunch," smiled Eleanor.
"I take back all I said about 'Fraid Cats,'" laughed Madge. "We'll hurry through our luncheon and leave here the moment we finish. After all, as long as we are to become seasoned mariners we shall have to learn to accustom ourselves to the vicissitudes of a sailor's life."
"But we can't be 'seasoned mariners' until we find our houseboat," reminded Lillian. "It doesn't look as though we'd find it to-day, either."