Say, I ain't bothering about maymeys from Cuba.
A couple of hot murphies from Ireland, served with a lump of
butter, would look good enough to me."
"Do you suppose any one buys them?" marveled Jennie.
"Surest thing you know. Some rich dame coming by here,
wondering what she can have for dinner to tempt the jaded palates
of her dear ones, see? She sees them Cuban maymeys. `The very
thing!' she says. `I'll have 'em served just before the salad.'
And she sails in and buys a pound or two. I wonder, now, do you
eat 'em with a fruit knife, or with a spoon?"
Jennie took one last look at the woven basket with its foreign
contents. Then she moved on, slowly. She had been moving on for
hours--weeks.
Most people have acquired the habit of eating three meals a
day. In a city of some few millions the habit has made necessary
the establishing of many thousands of eating places. Jennie would
have told you that there were billions of these. To her the world
seemed composed of one huge, glittering restaurant, with myriads of
windows through which one caught maddening glimpses of ketchup
bottles, and nickel coffee heaters, and piles of doughnuts, and
scurrying waiters in white, and people critically studying menu
cards. She walked in a maze of restaurants, cafes, eating-houses.
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