"I wonder," he mutters as he returns to the table, "if that unmitigated wooden image of a dunderhead would pay any attention if I were to kick him?"
"No—not if you were to tie a pack of fire-crackers to his coat-tail and light them. He knows his business too well. The first duty of an English head-waiter is to be dignified, as it is that of a French head-waiter to be vigilant and polite."
"Besides," remarks Amy quietly, "I don't suppose the man had an idea of what you meant by 'those cars,' if he even knew what a half dollar signified."
"Well, we must be off. Time's up. We shall miss the train. Good-bye, boys. You can sit still and finish your dinner in peace."
Good-bye to our friends from Paultons—good-bye. And then we rush out, and do miss the train. It is five o'clock ten minutes and a quarter.
English trains go on time—English dinners don't.
We finally get off at seven o'clock. Just before we leave a waiter comes up to me and says in a casual manner, "Found your humbreller yet, sir?"
"No."
"Wat kind of er humbreller was it, sir?"