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She is only living it all over again and giving the others a little pleasure at the same time. Dear knows, they have little enough, poor things." Sister Agatha made no reply; she was listening intently to 208's orders.
Thereafter a truce was proclaimed in the immediate vicinity of 208. Her neighbors, right and left, their backs twisted towards the tease, ate their portions in fear and trembling. After a while 208's hand went up again. This time it waved mechanically back and forth as if the owner were pumping bucketfuls of water. "What is it now, 208?"
She ate one with keen relish, then eyed the remaining two askance and critically. Freckles grew anxious. What next? Contrary to all rules 208's head, after slowly drooping little by little, lower and lower, dropped finally with a dull thud on the edge of the table and a force that tipped the plate towards her. "Number 208 sit up properly or leave the table."
The voice at the head of the table put the question with a note of exasperation in it. "Please 'um, another helpin'." The sister's lips set themselves close. "Pass up 208's plate," she said. The empty plate, licked clean of molasses on the sly, went up the line and returned laden with three "bloomin' beauties" as 208 murmured serenely to herself.
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