“She’ll be a second Patty,” he says, puttin’ out a bread-hooker fer more feed.
“I’ll take another slice of toast,” says Melon-face, “and a’ aig and a third cup–it’s so good, Miss Sewell, I’m really ashamed, yas, I am.”
After that, I didn’t say much–just plumb petryfied watchin’ them two gents shovel. Talk about you’ grizzly in the springtime! And you bet they was no gittin’ shet of ’em till they couldn’t hole no more.
But, fin’lly, they moseyed, and me and Macie and the ole lady had a chin. It come out that Long-hair (and his friend) showed up ev’ry mornin’.
“And allus gits his breakfast,” I says.
“Wal, in Noo York, folks drop ’round that–a-way,” she answers. “It’s Bohemia.”
“Bohemia–you mean a kinda free hand-out.”
“Alec! No! Bohemians divvy with each other.”
“Seem’s t’ me Macie Sewell does most of the divvyin’.”
“You don’t understand,” she says. “People with artistic temper’ments don’t think about such–such common things.”