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172 to five cents. As it was now, when he had paid for his breakfast, he would have fifteen cents left out of the thirty.

With the pasteboard check which the girl had left at his plate, in his hand, Ned approached the cashier's desk in the front part of the restaurant. His fingers went into the change pocket of his overcoat, searching for the money. He could feel nothing but the lining. A blank look came over his face. He was sure he had put the money back into that pocket as he finished counting it when he sat on the edge of his bed. Yet it was not there. Hurriedly he felt in all his other pockets.

Meanwhile several customers behind him were impatiently waiting to pay their checks.

"One side," said the cashier in a gruff tone, as he saw Ned fumbling through his pockets. "What's the matter with you? Left your memory home?"

"I think I've lost my money," Ned answered, his voice trembling a little.

"Then you've got another think coming," the clerk said in an ugly tone. "I've heard that story before."

"What story?" asked Ned.

"About forgetting your money. Left it in the bank I s'pose, or home on the pianer, or you've