[The DUTCH YOUTH stops eating and laughs. The GERMAN lights a cigarette. The LITTLE MAN sits motionless, nursing his hat. The WAITER comes flying back with the eggs and places them before the AMERICAN.]
AMERICAN. [Putting away his watch] Good! I don't like trouble.
How much?
[He pays and eats. The WAITER stands a moment at the edge of
the platform and passes his hand across his brow. The LITTLE
MAN eyes him and speaks gently.]
LITTLE MAN. Herr Ober!
[The WAITER turns.]
Might I have a glass of beer?
WAITER. Yes, sare.
LITTLE MAN. Thank you very much.
[The WAITER goes.]
AMERICAN. [Pausing in the deglutition of his eggs—affably] Pardon me, sir; I'd like to have you tell me why you called that little bit of a feller "Herr Ober." Reckon you would know what that means? Mr. Head Waiter.