"One ham--and!"

A monstrous greasy cook peered forth, shoving out a plate of fried eggs
and echoing huskily:

"Ham--and!"

"Corn-beef-an'-cabbage!" "One harf-an'-harf!" "Make a sunstroke on the
hash!" and other pleasing chants of the noon.

"What'll yer have?"

A thin and nervous young woman swooped between them and mopped off the
sloppy, crumby table with her apron.

"What's good?" asked Joe.

The waitress regarded Joe with half-shut eyes.

"_You_ want veal cutlets."

And she wafted the information to the cook.

"Well, Joe," said the practical Briggs, unable to hold in his excitement
any longer, "let's get down to business."

Joe leaned forward.

"I'm thinking of starting up the printery, Marty."