"'My God!' he says,' what sort of a place is it that I've got into?' Then he uses language what I'd always been taught was most unbecomin' to anyone what called 'imself a gentleman. 'You damned scoundrel, you!' he says. 'If you was my servant I'd have you sent to gaol for this! I might have expected that something would come of ever entering such a dog-'ole of a 'ouse! Take the 'at, you 'ound, and be damned to you!'
"And if he didn't throw his own 'at into my face with such violence as not only to break the skin right off my nose, where it 'appened to 'it me, but as to make me feel for the moment as if I had gone silly. When I come to myself, as it were, if he hadn't gone right into the street, for all I knew, and left his 'at behind him. As I was thinkin' what I ought to do--for I ain't accustomed to havin' 'igh 'ats chucked in my face as if they were brickbats, not even at a party--three other gents came 'astening up--young ones, they was.
"''Ats, waiter!' they says. 'We're in a 'urry'--which I could see they was.
"'What is your numbers, gentlemen?' I says.
"'You never give us none,' says they.
"'In that case, gentlemen,' I says, 'I shall have to ask you for to be so good as to choose your own 'ats.'
"So I takes up in both my 'ands a 'eap of squashed 'igh 'ats and I 'olds 'em out to 'em. You should have seen their faces! First they looks at me, and then they looks at each other. Then one of them gives a sort of grin.
"'Ain't you made some sort of mistake?' he says.
"'As 'ow?' I says.
"'Ours was 'igh 'ats,' he says.