Say, Mrs.McTeague, have you got any tea?
Let's make a cup of tea over the stove." "No, no," cried Trina, with niggardly apprehension; "no, I haven't got a bit of tea." Trina's stinginess had increased to such an extent that it had gone beyond the mere hoarding of money.

She grudged even the food that she and McTeague ate, and even brought away half loaves of bread, lumps of sugar, and fruit from the car conductors' coffee-joint.

She hid these pilferings away on the shelf by the window, and often managed to make a very creditable lunch from them, enjoying the meal with the greater relish because it cost her nothing.
"No, Maria, I haven't got a bit of tea," she said, shaking her head decisively.

"Hark, ain't that Mac ?" she added, her chin in the air.
"That's his step, sure." "Well, I'm going to skip," said Maria.

She left hurriedly, passing the dentist in the hall just outside the door.