Peter walked across to the double pans, and saw they held a complete dinner—chicken, hot biscuits, cake, pickle, even ice-cream.
The sight of the food brought Peter a realization that he was keenly hungry. As a matter of fact, he had not eaten a palatable meal since he had been evicted from the white dining-car at Cairo, Illinois. Siner served his own and his mother's plate.
The old woman sniffed again.
"Seems to me lak you is mighty onobsarvin' fuh a nigger whut's been off to college."
"Anything else?" Peter looked into the pans again.
"Ain't you see whut it's all in?"
"What it's in?"
"Yeah; whut it's in. You heared whut I said."
"What is it in?"
"Why, it's in Miss Arkwright's tukky roaster, dat's whut it's in." The old negress drove her point home with an acid accent.