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The young woman remained quietly beside the desk of Berlaps until Michael came up and handed her the shirts. She then walked quickly toward the door, but did not reach it before Michael, who had glided along behind one of the counters. "You're a fool! And don't know which side your bread's buttered," he said, with a half leer, half scowl.
"Sposin' I was to go to N' Orleans an' take sick and die, Laik a bird into de country ma spirit would fly." And after a while down the path the red and yellow of Mammy Easter's bandanna was seen. "Supper, Miss Jinny. Laws, if I ain't ramshacked de premises fo' you bof. De co'n bread's gittin' cold."
Then I'm almost ashamed to confess it after what you said about luxury; but after all you needn't eat it unless you like "What is it?" said Priscilla. "Not milk chocolate, surely." "No. A loaf of bread." "Oh, bread's all right It'll go capitally with the soup. Frank was clamouring for bread yesterday, weren't you, Cousin Frank?
Sets a fellow thinking what some of our poor chaps must feel who get shot down and lie out in the mountains without a comrade to help them a comrade like you. I shall never " "Look here, Punch," interrupted Pen, "I don't like butter." "I do," said the boy, with his eyes dancing merrily. "Wished I had had some with that bread's morning."
"An' I reckon William said true," she wound up. "If 'Lizabeth don't know which side her bread's buttered she's no better nor a fool an' William's another." "I dunno," said the farmer; "it's a queer business, an' I don't fairly see my way about in it. I'm main puzzled what can ha' become o' that will I witnessed for th' old man." "She's a fool, I say."
Bread's conservative habits were already relaxed by the spiritual comfort of this preconcerted interview, in a remarkable locality, with a free-spoken millionaire. All his native shrewdness admonished him that his part was simply to let her take her time let the charm of the occasion work. So he said nothing; he only looked at her kindly. Mrs. Bread sat nursing her lean elbows.
He shook his head pitifully. His eyes at last settled on her, and he recognised her. He broke into a giggling laugh; the surprise was almost too much for his feeble mind and body. His hands reached and clutched hers. "Liddy! Liddy!" he whispered, then added peevishly, "the bread's sour, an' the boneset and camomile's no good. . . . Ain't tomorrow bakin'-day?" he added.
Who sent for him? I did. Who put him on the throne? I did. Who pays him his salary? I do, from the profits of the Casino. Now do you understand? He knows his job. He knows which side his bread's buttered. When I tell him about this marriage, do you know what he'll say? He'll say 'Thank you, sir! That's how things are in this island." Betty shuddered. Her face was white with humiliation.
But the girl said sandwiches were ten cents, and they didn't look worth it to me. "I asked her if she didn't have some made with stale bread, that she could let me have for five cents, but she said they didn't sell stale sandwiches. She seemed real put-out about it, too. She needn't have. Stale bread's better for you than fresh, anyhow. "But I didn't buy one.
"Since the unions got in here I've had nothing but trouble," he said. "I've tried to do my duty by my people, God knows. But they won't see which side their bread's buttered on. They oppose me at every step, they vote against their own interests. Some years ago they put up a job on us, and sent a scatter-brained radical to the legislature." "Krebs." "Do you know him?" "Slightly.
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