marble table top with a large and careless gesture that
precipitated stray crumbs into our laps. "Gut!" murmured
she, coyly, and leaned one hand on a portly hip in an
attitude of waiting.

"Coffee?" asked Blackie, turning to me. I nodded.

"Zweimal Kaffee?" beamed Roschen, grasping the idea.

"Now's your time to speak up," urged Blackie. "Go
ahead an' order all the cream gefillte things that looked
good to you out in front."

But I leaned forward, lowering my voice discreetly.
"Blackie, before I plunge in too recklessly, tell me, are
their prices very--"

"Sa-a-ay, child, you just can't spend half a dollar
here if you try. The flossiest kind of thing they got is
only ten cents a order. They'll smother you in whipped
cream f'r a quarter. You c'n come in here an' eat an'
eat an' put away piles of cakes till you feel like a
combination of Little Jack Horner an' old Doc Johnson.
An' w'en you're all through, they hand yuh your check,
an', say--it says forty-five cents. You can't beat it,
so wade right in an' spoil your complexion."

With enthusiasm I turned upon the patient Rosie. "O,
bring me some of those cunning little round things with
the cream on 'em, you know--two of those, eh Blackie?