"Muffins, sir; yes, sir;" and he hastened away.
We waited five, ten, fifteen minutes; no breakfast. One party at another table, who were waiting when we came in, were served with their breakfast; in five minutes more a fresh plate of muffins to another party; five more, and the waiter came to our table, put on two silver forks, a salt-cellar, and castor, and smoothed out some invisible wrinkles in the table linen, and went away; five minutes more, and he was hustling among some knives at a sideboard.
"Waiter!"
"Yes, sir."
"Are you going to bring my breakfast?"
"Yes, sir; d'reckly, sir; chops most ready, sir."
Chops, always call 'em chops; never call for a mutton chop in England; the word is superfluous, and stamps you as an untravelled, inexperienced Yankee at once.
Five minutes more, and he appeared, bearing a tray with the breakfast, just thirty-five minutes after the order had been given for it. How long would a hotel in America be patronized that made its guest wait one half that time for four times as elaborate a repast?
I soon learned how to manage this matter better, especially as there are no printed bills of fare, and the list comprises a very few standard dishes. My plan was, on first rising in the morning, to write my order for breakfast on a scrap of paper, ring for the chambermaid, hand it to her with instructions to have that breakfast ready in the ladies' coffee-room directly.
The English "directly" signifies the "right away" of America, or, more correctly, immediately.