"'Waiter,' orders the girl, short and sharp, 'another napkin.' He brings her one, respectful.

"I never saw more devil, if I may say it, stirred up in a lady.There was two bright red spots on her cheeks, and her eyes looked exactly like a wildcat's I'd seen in the zoo.Her foot kept slapping the floor all the time.

"'Waiter,' she orders, 'bring me filtered water without ice.Bring me a footstool.Take away this empty salt-cellar.' She kept him on the jump.She was sure giving the halberdier his.

"There wasn't but a few customers up in the slosh at that time, so I hung out near the door so I could help Sir Percival serve.

"He got along fine with the olives and celery and the bluepoints.They was easy.And then the consomme came up the dumb-waiter all in one big silver tureen.Instead of serving it from the side-table he picks it up between his hands and starts to the dining-table with it.When nearly there he drops the tureen smash on the floor, and the soup soaks all the lower part of that girl's swell silk dress.

"'Stupid--incompetent,' says she, giving him a look.'Standing in a corner with a halberd seems to be your mission in life.'

"'Pardon me, lady,' says he.'It was just a little bit hotter than blazes.I couldn't help it.'

"The old man pulls out a memorandum book and hunts in it.'The 25th of April, Deering,' says he.'I know it,' says Sir Percival.'And ten minutes to twelve o'clock,' says the old man.'By Jupiter! you haven't won yet.' And he pounds the table with his fist and yells to me:

'Waiter, call the manager at once--tell him to hurry here as fast as he can.' I go after the boss, and old Brockmann hikes up to the slosh on the jump.

"'I want this man discharged at once,' roads the old guy.'Look what he's done.Ruined my daughter's dress.It cost at least $600.

Discharge this awkward lout at once or I'll sue you for the price of it.'

"'Dis is bad pizness,' says the boss.'Six hundred dollars is much.I reckon I vill haf to--'

"'Wait a minute, Herr Brockmann,' says Sir Percival, easy and smiling.