Sick of the scene described above, I went out just now to take a turn or two in my slippers in the long entry. Up and down, giving me a most appealing stare whenever we met, dawdled also the fat waiter who served up the cold victuals of yesterday. He evidently had some errand with me, but what I did not immediately fathom. At last he approached—
“You—a—got your things, sir?”
“What things?”
“The stick and umbrella, I carried to your bedroom, sir?”
“Yes, thank you,” and I resumed my walk.
The waiter resumed his, and presently approached again.
“You—a—don’t intend to use the parlor again, sir?”
“No: I have explained to the master of the house that I shall breakfast in the coffee-room.” And again I walked on.
My friend began again at the next turn.
“You—a—pay for those ladies’ dinner yourself, sir?”