Feb. 2, 1855.
After despatching this letter, I again inquired about my friends and my anticipated supper, which for some time had escaped my memory. “Did you ring, sir?”
“No, I did not, sir, but the bell has;” recognising my stupid waiter.
“Oh, sir! are you here?”
“Of course I am; don’t you see me?”
“Well, sir, your friends have had supper; they inquired everywhere for you; I told them you could not wait, as you had two ladies to see home as far as Brompton.”
“You foolish fellow! I never spoke to you about ladies, Brompton, or any such thing; I merely asked you where my friends were to sup; to which you replied, ‘Rump-steak for two, tripe for one, two taters, pat of butter, one pale Bass, and three kidneys for a gentleman, underdone.’”
“No more you did, sir. It was number three who told me to say so; not you, sir; you’re quite right, sir!”
“I am sure I am right; but as for you, your head is quite wrong!”
“Well, I assure you, sir, we have so much to do at times, we hardly know what we are about.”