The Crucible of Character
"What—what did you take?" asked Russell, hungrily.
"W'y," I says to de chief grub-slinger, "look 'ere, waiter, gimme one cow-juice wid an overcoat, an' den youse can trow on a pair of de white wings wid de sunny side up, an' den a slice or two for a gazabo, an' some mixed Irish arter dat, an' den a Santiago cake-walk, w'ich, of course, is a Spanish Ommerlet. Did I eat? Oh, no, I did n't do a t'ing to dat meal, I did n't! Den I finished 'er up wid some Chinese white weddin' an' a French roll wid black dirt on it!"
"Black dirt, Snapsie?" said Russell, dubiously.
"Yep, o' course it was black dirt! Dat means choc'lut."
"Oh, chocolate," said Russell, brightening, for he had understood none of Snapsie's graphically enumerated dishes, though he had vaguely felt their deliciousness, by the way in which the other boy worked his mouth and rolled his eyes. "Why, we often have chocolate at home."
87
