Only just come, I assure you.
Mr. Wackerbath.
We have a private room, you see—the wife prefers it to the—ah—publicity of the restaurant. [The First and Second Waiters enter from the door on the left above the arch.] If you'll excuse me for a moment, I'll just see how they've arranged the table. [He bustles up to the table.] Why, hullo! What's this? Only four places! I ordered dinner for six!
First Waiter.
I regret—but it is not my fault. I lay for six, and a gentleman assure me I am wrong, it is for four person only.
Mr. Wackerbath.
Don't talk about it—put it right at once. I want a chair in here—and another here.
[He remains by the table, while the Waiters replace chairs and bring back plates, glasses, &c.
Pringle.
[To Horace.] Ventimore! [Horace crosses to fireplace.] Will you kindly explain to your host that that's my dinner-table he's taking these liberties with?