"My, but that's hard—all alone here! Got a job?"
"Yes."
And I explained to the attentive interest of all.
From the Irish stew before me they helped themselves, or passed to me the plates from the distance. If excitement had not taken from me every shred of appetite, the kitchen odours, smoke and frying, the room's stifling heat would have dulled hunger.
Let it go! I was far too interested to eat.
The table was crowded with all manner of substances passing for food—cheese, preserves, onion pickles, cake and Irish stew, all eaten at one time and at will; the drink was tea.
At my left sat a well-dressed man who would pass anywhere for a business man of certain distinction. He was a common operator. Next him was a bridal couple, very young and good looking; then came the sisters, Mika and Nannette, their brother, a packer at a shop, then Mademoiselle
Frances, expert hand at fourteen dollars a week (a heavy swell indeed), then Maurice.
Although I was evidently an object of interest, although countless questions were put to me, let me say that curiosity was markedly absent. Their attitude was humane, courteous, sympathetic, agreeable, which qualities I firmly believe are supreme in those who know hardship, who suffer privation, who labour.
Great surprise was evinced that I had so soon found a job. Mika and Nannette, brunette Canadians, with voices sweet and carrying, talked in good English and mediocre French.