We went to dinner. Lucille wanted more cocktails. Then she wanted Scotch and soda.
She went to the powder-room and I saw her manage to slip the waiter a note and a few words.
I called the waiter over to the table. “What did the girl want?” I asked.
He looked innocent. “Nothing,” he said.
“She gave you five dollars,” I told him. “For what?”
He coughed apologetically.
I took out my wallet and pulled out a ten-dollar note.
He grinned and said, “Whenever she ordered Scotch and soda, I was to bring her plain pale ginger ale.”
I handed him the ten and said, “Double it.”
“You mean you want pale ginger ale too?”