"'Ugh!' says Mis' Uppers, 'don't say "beef" when I'm where I can hear. I donno what I'll do without my steak, but do it I will. Ladies, the cleanest of us is soundin' brass an' tinklin' cannibals. Why do they call 'em tinklin' cannibals?' she wondered to us all.
"'Oh—,' wailed Mis' Sturgis in the rocking-chair, 'some of you ladies give me your salad dressing receipt. Mine is real good on salad, but on paper it don't sound fit to eat. I don't seem to have no book-style about me to-day.'
"'How do you spell embarrass?' asked Libby Liberty. 'Is it an r an' two s's or two r's and an s?'
"'It's two s's at the end, so it must be one r,' volunteers Mis' Sykes. 'That used to mix me up some, too.'
"Just then up come Abagail Arnold bringing the noon lunch, and she had the sandwiches and the eggs not only, but a pot of hot coffee thrown in, and a basket of doughnuts, sugared. She set them out on Mis' Sykes's desk, and we all laid down our pencils and drew up on our high stools and swing chairs, Mis' Sturgis and all, and nothing in the line of food had ever looked so welcoming.
"'Oh, the eatableness of nice refreshments!' says Mis' Toplady, sighing.
"'This is when it ain't victuals, its viands,' says Mis' Sykes, showing pleased.
"But well do I remember, we wasn't started to eat, and Abagail still doing the pouring, when the composing room door opened—I donno why they called it that, for we done the composing in the office, and they only got out the paper in there—and in come the foreman, with an apron of bed-ticking. He was Riddy Styles, that we all knew him.
"'Excuse me,' he says, hesitating, 'but us fellows thought we'd ought to mention that we can't get no paper out by quittin' time if we don't get a-hold of some copy pretty quick.'