"Private dining-room, please," he said, and he dropped a quarter into the hands of the servant at the door as he led the way.
It was two hours later when, having cast up his account from the bill of fare, Sir Humphrey, calling for cigars, said: "Help yourself, Colonel. If my arithmetic is correct, we shall enjoy our smoke, have a half dollar for the waiter, and enter the Square with a whole cigar apiece in our breast pockets—at peace with the world, the flesh, and his Satanic majesty. Allow me to give you a light."
He handed the Colonel one of the free dinner-tickets of the X. Y. Z. Society.
"The Presbyterian blue-light I reserve for my own use. Witness it burn.
"Well, Colonel, I hope you have enjoyed your dinner?"
"Thoroughly, sir, thoroughly. This is one of the many occasions in my life, Humphrey, when I rejoice in my early good breeding. Were it not for that, I should feel constrained to inquire whom you throttled and robbed in crossing Fifth Avenue, two hours ago, during the forty seconds when my back was turned."
"And my pious rearing would compel me to answer, 'No one.'
"The wherewithal to procure this Christmas dinner dropped straight from heaven, Colonel. I saw it fall, and gratefully seized it, just in the middle of the crossing."
"Thanks. I have taken the liberty of helping myself to the rest of the matches, Humphrey."