"I—I wish a waiter would come," she faltered.
At that moment one on the wing stopped in obedience to a gesture of Miss Ferrol's—a delicate, authoritative movement of the head.
"Give this young lady that chair opposite me," she said.
The chair was drawn out with a flourish, the girl was seated, and the bill of fare was placed in her hands.
"Thank you," she said, in a low, astonished voice.
Olivia smiled.
"That waiter is my own special and peculiar property," she said, "and I rather pride myself on him."
But her guest scarcely seemed to comprehend her pleasantry. She looked somewhat awkward.
"I—don't know much about waiters," she ventured. "I'm not used to them, and I suppose they know it. I never was at a hotel before."
"You will soon get used to them," returned Miss Ferrol.