“Six eggs?” he said, with an interrogative inflection.
“Right,” said the gentleman.
The clerk wrote it down. “A pound of butter?” he continued.
“A pound of butter,” agreed the gentleman.
“Bread?”
“Three loaves.”
“Coffee?”
The gentleman hesitated. “No,” he said, with decision. “Coffee enough on hand to last the rest of the week.” He smiled contentedly, watched the clerk write a name and address at the top of the order, and then went out of the shop whistling.
“How did you know what he wanted?” asked the other customer of the clerk.
“He lives just around the corner in an apartment, and he and his wife get their own breakfasts. Always the same things—never any change—but he always has to have it written down.”