Of course I had to explain to them that I was merely an investigator, a
social student, seeking to find out how the other half lived. And at
once they shut up like clams. I was not of their kind; my speech had
changed, the tones of my voice were different, in short, I was a
superior, and they were superbly class conscious.

"What will you have?" I asked, as the waiter came for the order.

"Two slices an' a cup of tea," meekly said the Carter.

"Two slices an' a cup of tea," meekly said the Carpenter.

Stop a moment, and consider the situation. Here were two men, invited by
me into the coffee-house. They had seen my gold piece, and they could
understand that I was no pauper. One had eaten a ha'penny roll that day,
the other had eaten nothing. And they called for "two slices an' a cup
of tea!" Each man had given a tu'penny order. "Two slices," by the way,
means two slices of bread and butter.

This was the same degraded humility that had characterised their attitude
toward the poorhouse porter. But I wouldn't have it. Step by step I
increased their order--eggs, rashers of bacon, more eggs, more bacon,
more tea, more slices and so forth--they denying wistfully all the while
that they cared for anything more, and devouring it ravenously as fast as
it arrived.

"First cup o' tea I've 'ad in a fortnight," said the Carter.

"Wonderful tea, that," said the Carpenter.