Not quite,
perhaps, but you see the idea. Sort of wards of the hotel."
He was interrupted by the entrance of the waitress with soup. She gave
him a frozen glance and a jerk of the head, and he vanished to the
kitchen, to return with more soup, and at last we got a start on our
meal. The soup was good notwithstanding the story of the cat. It really
was mulligatawny. There was no doubt about that.
The old couple were not so well satisfied. They sipped a little, had a
whispered consultation, and beckoned the boots.
"Waiter, why do you call this beef-tea?" demanded the old gentleman.
"You can't have me there, my lad," retorted boots cheerily. "From the
Latin beef, beef and tea, tea--beef-tea. Take a spoonful of tea and a
lump of beef, shake well together, simmer gently till ready, and serve
with a ham-frill."
The old gentleman's face showed deep purple against his white whiskers,
and the waitress left our table hurriedly, hustled the boots from the
room, and crossed to the old couple. I could not hear all she said, but
I understood that the boots was liable to slight delusions, but quite
harmless.
Pages:
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306