"A chair, sir!" Here a flick of the officious napkin. "Now shall we
say a chop, sir?" Here a smiling obeisance. "Or shall we make it a
steak, sir--cut thick, sir--medium done, and with--"
"No, thank you," said Barnabas, laying aside hat and cane.
"No, sir? Very good, sir! Certainly not, sir! A cut o' b'iled beef
might suit, p'raps,--with carrots? or shall we say--"
"Neither, thank you, but you can bring me a bottle of Burgundy and
the Gazette."
"Burgundy, sir--Gazette? Certainly, sir--"
"And--I'm expecting a gentleman here of the name of Smivvle--"
"Certainly, sir! Burgundy, Gazette, Gent name of Sniffle, yessir!
Hanythink else, sir?"
"Yes, I should like pens and ink and paper."
"Yessir--himmediately, sir." Hereupon, and with many and divers bows
and flicks of the napkin, the waiter proceeded to set out the
articles in question, which done, he flicked himself out of the room.
But he was back again almost immediately, and had uncorked the
bottle and filled the glass with a flourish, a dexterity, a
promptness, accorded only to garments of the very best and most
ultra-fashionable cut. Then, with a bow that took in bestarched
cravat, betasselled Hessians, and all garments between, the waiter
fluttered away.
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