What he meant I could not say. But he should have been a capital actor, because not a muscle of his face moved. A man behind him laughed--stinging me as with the lash of a whip.
The big woman delivered herself of her former ejaculation.
"Poor dear!"
The potato washer remarked,--
"Strikes me, my girl, that you've a good opinion of yourself."
The grey-headed man had his eyes upon what I had in my hand.
"What might you happen to have there?"
"It's some food which I have brought for you."
"For me in particular, or for all the lot of us?"
"It's for the seven."