ng in the paunch of the blouse and held there by the mohair
girdle. 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?" 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. 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. Freckles
doubled up again; she had seen through the man[oe]uvre: the three
remaining cakes slid gently into the open half--low apron neck and were
safely lodged with the other four.

"Number 208 sit up properly or leave the table."

The sister spoke peremptorily, for this special One Three-hundredth was
her daily, almost hourly, thorn in the flesh. The table stopped eating
to listen. There was a low moan for answer, but the head was not
lifted. Number 206 took this opportunity to give her a dig in the ribs,
and Number 205 crowded her in turn. To their amazement there was no
response.

"Number 208 answer at once."

"Oh, please, 'um, I've got an awful pain--oo--au--." The sound was low
but piercing.

"You may leave the table, 208, and go up to the dormitory."

208 rose with apparent effort. Her hands were clasped over the region
where hot corn-meal cakes are said to lie heavily at times. Her face was
screwed into an expression indicative of excruciating inner torment. As
she made her way, moaning softly, to the farther door that opened into
the cheerless corridor, there was audible a suppressed but decided
giggle. It proceeded from Freckles. The monitor warned her, but,
unheeding, the little girl giggled again.

A ripple of laughter started down the three tables, but was quickly
suppressed.

"Number 207," said the much-tried and long-suffering sister, "you