Horatia. Please don't make jokes of that sort—unless you wish to destroy the little appetite I have left!
Augustus (penitently). Never mind—I won't do it again. Here 's our Waiter at last. Now we're all right!
[The Waiter puts a dish down upon another table, and advances with the air of a family friend who brings bad tidings.
Horatia. Will you kindly let us have that trout at once?
The Waiter (bending down to AUGUSTUS with pity and sympathy). Fery sôry to dell you, esbecially after keebin you so long vaiting, bot (thinks how he can break it most gently) ve haf zo many beople hier to-day, and zey haf shust dold me in ze gitchen zere is no more drout. Zis hote vedder ze drout, he vill nod stay!
Augustus (mildly). No, of course not—well, let me see, now, what can you—?
The E.A. Here, you Kellner, come here, can't you? What the—
Waiter (to AUGUSTUS). Von minute. I gom back bresently. (To E.A.) You vant your pill, Sir, yes?
The E.A. (exploding). My bill! Confound it! I want something to eat first. When is that Bisque coming?
Waiter. Ach, peg your bardon, ve haf peen so pusy all day. Your Bisque vill pe retty diregly. I go to vetch him. [He goes.