"I don't quite understand what you wish, sir," said the valet, apologetically.
"Oh, you don't, eh?" said Dawson, amazed as well as annoyed at the man's seeming lack of sense. "Well, I want to read the news—"
"Ah! Excuse me, Mr. Dawson," said the valet. "I did not understand. You want the Daily Ticker."
"Oh, do I?" ejaculated Dawson. "Well, if you know what I want better than I do, bring me what you think I want, and add to it a cup of coffee and a roll."
"I beg your pardon!" the valet returned.
"A cup of coffee and a roll!" roared Dawson. "Don't you know what a cup of coffee and a roll is or are? Just ask the cook, will you—"
"Ask the what, sir?" asked the valet, very respectfully.
"The cook! the cook! the cook!" screamed Dawson. His patience was exhausted by such manifest dulness.
"I—I'm sincerely anxious to please you, Mr. Dawson," said his man; "but really, sir, you speak so strangely this morning, I hardly know what to do. I—"
"Can't you understand that I'm hungry?" demanded Dawson.