He looked at the quantities of food spread about
him. "If you'd only let me take a little to those men outside!" He
said it pleadingly.
But T-S tapped imperiously on the table, with both his knife and
fork together. "Mr. Carpenter, eat your dinner! Eat it, now, I say!"
It was as if he were dealing with one of the five little T-S's. And
Carpenter, strange as it may seem, obeyed. He picked up a bit of
bread, and began to nibble it, and T-S went to work again.
There was another five minutes of silence; and then the picture
magnate stopped, with a look of horror on his face. "My Gawd! He's
cryin'!" Sure enough, there were two large tears trickling, one down
each cheek of the stranger, and dropping on the bread he was putting
into his mouth!
"Look here, Mr. Carpenter," protested T-S. "Is it dem strikers?"
"I'm sorry; you see--"
"Now, honest, man, vy should you spoil your dinner fer a bunch o'
damn lousy loafers--"
"Abey, vot a vay to talk at a dinner-party!" broke in Maw.
And then suddenly Mary Magna spoke.
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