Never in the history of the family had its menu varied: cold ham, potato salad, pork and beans, canned fruit, chocolate, and the inevitable pitcher of ice-water.
In the absence of Victorine, Maggie waited on the table, very uncomfortable in her one good dress and stiff white apron.

She stood off from the table, making awkward dabs at it from time to time.

In her excess of deference she developed a clumsiness that was beyond all expression.

She passed the plates upon the wrong side, and remembered herself with a broken apology at inopportune moments.

She dropped a spoon, she spilled the ice-water.