"One ham—and!"
A monstrous greasy cook peered forth, shoving out a plate of fried eggs and echoing huskily:
"Ham—and!"
"Corn-beef-an'-cabbage!" "One harf-an'-harf!" "Make a sunstroke on the hash!" and other pleasing chants of the noon.
"What'll yer have?"
A thin and nervous young woman swooped between them and mopped off the sloppy, crumby table with her apron.
"What's good?" asked Joe.
The waitress regarded Joe with half-shut eyes.
"You want veal cutlets."
And she wafted the information to the cook.