He walked across the street to Wasserbauer's Café and Restaurant and seated himself at his favorite table.
"Well, Mr. Potash," Louis, the waiter, cried, dusting off the tablecloth with a red-and-white towel, "some nice Metzelsuppe to-day, huh?"
"No, Louis," Abe replied as he took a dill pickle from a dishful on the table, "I guess I won't have no soup to-day. Give me some gedämpftes Kalbfleisch mit Kartoffelklösse."
"Right away quick, Mr. Potash," said Louis, starting to hurry away.
"Ain't I nobody here, Louis?" cried a bass voice at the table behind Abe. "Do I sit here all day?"
"Ex-cuse me, Mr. Kotzen," Louis exclaimed. "Some nice roast chicken to-day, Mr. Kotzen?"
"I'll tell you what I want it, Louis, not you me," Mr. Kotzen grunted. "If I want to eat it roast chicken I'll say so. If I don't I won't."
"Sure, sure," Louis cried, rubbing his hands in a perfect frenzy of apology.
"Gimme a Schweizerkäse sandwich and a cup of coffee," Mr. Kotzen concluded, "and if you don't think you can bring it back here in half an hour,
Louis, let me know, that's all, and I'll ask Wasserbauer if he can help you out."