“One must be a fool not to see it where it is, Senhora Joanna!”
She was silent, and began to suck a lump of sugar. This was one of her favorite dainties; she liked it white, refined. Brown sugar, that gave the coffee, as she said, a taste of ants, was one of her vexations.
“It is even worse than it was last month,” she would complain with bitterness. “But, of course, for a poor creature like me anything is good enough. Yes, one must be crazy not to see it,” she repeated, returning to her former idea.
“Every one for himself,” said the cook, carelessly.
“And God for us all,” sighed Juliana.
At this moment Luiza rang the bell.
“What does she want now?” said Juliana, her mouth full of sugar. “Some new caprice!”
She soon returned, an expression of anger on her countenance, carrying an empty jug.
“She wants more water! What a fancy—to duck herself at midnight!”
She stamped her foot impatiently upon the brick floor. Putting the jug under the faucet she continued, while the water fell noisily into the sink, “She says she wants fried ham for breakfast,—something salt. She wants an appetizer.”