Jennette Lee

“ Of course the's rush days, when you don't get a breath through, hardly, but that's what you expect—in a hotel."
"I don't mind the hard times, nor the work," said the girl. She turned her eyes to her companion. "It's the things I don't have, Ainsie, that I mind. I seem always just coming to 'em somehow—" Her thin, work-worn fingers reached out a little, as if to touch something. They fell to her side.
From down below, the voices of children at play on the beach came to them happily.
Ainsie broke off to watch them. "Them young ones have a dreadful good time, don't they?" ”

“ She moved her arm to the left, where a soft mass of gray spread itself on the water.
The girl's eyes sought the boat.
"They won't take no hurt," said the cook. "They'll just row round the harbor. She's been here years enough to know how things act—days like this. I'll have to be gettin' back," she added, rising ponderously from the rock. "The fog always drives 'em in early—and crazy for supper. Other nights you can ring and ring for 'em and you won't get 'em in—not till it's pitch dark. You have to cook hard when it fogs like this." ”

“ The girl with the tray came forward. "What do you mean?" Her empty, pretty face had grown white.
He looked at her, half defiant, digging his bare toes in the floor. "She got drownded," he said, "on to the beach. She was under ten minutes—and they can't bring her to. They've rolled her and done everything." His voice grew important again. "They want some dry things—and brandy."
The cook started toward the door.... Her eye fell on her stove and she halted. "I can't go!" she moaned. ”

“ Some folks are always puttering along with 'em. They'll fry what's left to-day, and make hash of it to-morrow, and a salad the next day, like enough, and so on, till you can't hardly tell what you started with. ”