a furtiveness that was none the less critical for being so sly.
"It 's eatin' in a bathroom we are," she whispered. "An' will yuh look at the cup yonder. The sides of it are that thick there 's scarce room fer the coffee in it! Well, well! It do beat the Dutch! They 're drawin' the drink out of a boiler big enough fer wash-day."
The approach of a waitress silenced her. When she saw that Mrs. Cregan was not going to speak, she looked up at the girl with a bargain-counter keenness. "Have y' any pancakes fit t' eat?… How much are they?… Ten cents! Fer how many?… Fer three pancakes? Fer three! D'yuh hear that?" she appealed to Mrs. Cregan. "Come home with me, that 's a good woman. It 's a sin to pay it. Three cents fer a pancake! Aw, come along out o' this. Ten cents! We c'u'd get two loaves o' bread fer the money an' live on it fer a week!"
But Mrs. Cregan was beyond the reach of practicalities, and she ordered her buckwheat cakes and coffee with an air that was mournfully distrait. Mrs. Byrne made a vain attempt to get her own cakes from the waitress for five cents, and then resigned herself to the senseless extravagance.
"Yuh 'll not make yer own livin' an' eat the likes o' this," she grumbled asthmatically. "Yuh 'd better be savin' yer money."
Mrs. Cregan was looking at the thick china with a sort of aggrieved despondence. It was almost the expression of a bereaved mother looking at one of her
