For fear he would quit, I ran to the stair-way and called her. She came down, and I explained as quickly as possible, and she said she would help; and putting on an apron, began work immediately.
We had Lima beans for dinner, and being a little short on them, were obliged to dish them out in small quantities. The Doctor served one man who, with one swoop, took into his mouth all he had, in one spoonful, and immediately handed his dish back to the Doctor, saying:
"Here, waiter, bring me another bean!"
HERE, WAITER, BRING ME ANOTHER BEAN.—PAGE 312.
The Doctor struck a dramatic attitude, and glared over his spectacles—one hand clasped the middle of his cane, and his plug hat poised side-wise on the back of his head, and he shouted excitedly:
"Sir, I want you to understand we know how many beans there was in that dish. Besides, I'm—I'm—I'm no —— table waiter, and I demand that you address me differently. In short, I demand satisfaction for your cussed insolence, sir!"
Every man in the dining room dropped his knife and fork and looked on in astonishment. The gentleman addressed by the Doctor apologized to his entire satisfaction, and matters went on smoothly until just as the Doctor was making for the dining room with a tray full for two newcomers. The landlady, with a tray full of dirty dishes, met him at the kitchen door. She had attempted to pass back through the wrong passage-way, and a general collision was the result. The Doctor had gotten just far enough along so that every dish on his tray went crashing on the dining-room floor, and a cup of hot tea went into the top of one shoe. Before he fairly realized whom he had collided with, he broke out with a volley of oaths sufficient to turn the old lady's hair white in a few seconds.
I hastened to the rescue, and instantly reminded him of the awful fact that he was cussing the landlady. He lost no time in apologizing politely, and assured her that he alone was to blame for the mishap.