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Thackeray, William Makepeace, 1811-1863

"The Best British Short Stories of 1922"

They seemed on very intimate terms
with the waitress, and the mere sight of the boots sent them into fits
of suppressed chuckling. He, standing by the sideboard, napkin over
arm, added to their hilarity by winking violently at regular intervals.
Catching my eye upon him, he crossed to our table.
"Everything all right, eh?" he said, glancing over the lay-out of our
table.
"Everything--except that so far we have had no food," I replied.
"It's the soup," he said, leaning confidentially to my ear. "The cat
fell into it, and they're combing it out of her fur. Have a drink while
you wait? No! All right, old thing. I dare say you know best when
you've had enough. Shut up, you kids! Don't you see you're irritating
the old boy."
This in a hoarse aside to the children at the next table. It made them
giggle the more.
"Surely they are very young to be stopping here alone!" said Tony, with
a touch of her national inquisitiveness.
"Very sad case, madam," replied the boots. "We found them here when we
came. You know--wrapped in a blanket on the doorstep.


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