distressingly aware—was the fact that he was alone and supperless, very, very weak and tired, and almost discouraged.     

       However, there was no use in standing in the wet grass of the Beebe yard and giving way to his discouragement. Galusha Bangs was a plucky little soul, although just now a weak and long-suffering one. He waded and slopped back to the store platform, where he put down his suitcase and started on a short tour of exploration. Through the fog and darkness he could dimly perceive a signpost standing at the corner of the crossroad where the store was located. He tramped over to look at it.     

       There were two signs affixed to the post. By the aid of the pocket flashlight he read them. That at the top read thus: “TO THE LIGHTHOUSE—1 1/2 MILES.” There was an arrow pointing along the crossroad and off to the right. Galusha paid little attention to this sign; it was the other nailed beneath it which caught and held his attention. It was a rather gaudy sign of red, white, and blue, and it read thus: “THE RESTABIT INN AT GOULD'S BLUFFS—1 MILE.” And the arrow pointed in the same direction as the other.     

       Mr. Bangs uttered his favorite exclamation.     

       “Dear me! Why, dear me!”      

       He read the sign again. There was no mistake, his first reading had been correct.     

       He trotted back to the platform of Mr. Beebe's store. Then, once more dragging forth the big pocketbook, he fumbled in its various compartments. After spilling a good many scraps of paper upon the platform and stopping to pick them up again, he at length found what he was looking for. It was an advertisement torn from the Summer Resort advertising pages of a magazine. Holding it so that the feeble light from Mr. Beebe's lamp fell upon it, Galusha read, as follows:     

       THE RESTABIT INN at Beautiful Gould's Bluffs, East Wellmouth, Mass. Rest, sea air, and pleasant people: Good food and plenty of it. Reasonable prices. NO FRILLS.     

       He had chanced upon the advertisement in a tattered, back number magazine which a fellow passenger had left beside him in a car seat a month before. He had not quite understood the “NO FRILLS” portion. Apparently it must be important because the advertiser 

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