Polite Straphanger (to lady who has been standing on his toes for a considerable time). "Pardon me, Madam, but you'll have to get off here—this is as far as I go."
THE INTERNATIONALIST.
"What on earth," I said to the waiter, who was standing a few yards off, lost in a pensive dream of his native land—Switzerland, France, Italy?—well, anyhow, lost in a pensive dream—"what on earth is a Petrograd steak?"
The white napkin whisked like the scut of a rabbit, and he bounded to my side. "Eet is mince-up," he said melodramatically. "Ze Petrograd steak ver good. Two minute—mince-up."
"But isn't that a Vienna steak?" I asked.
A spasm of pain passed over his face. "Before ze War," he whispered, "yes, Vienna steak. Now we call it ze Petrograd. You vill have one? Yes? Two minute."