Біла пташка
The Inconsiderate Waiter
“Yes,sir,”saidWilliam.
“Whatisherconfoundedailment?”
“Shewasallusoneofthedelicatekind,butfullofspirit,andyousee,sir,shehashadababy-girllately—”
“William,howdareyou,”Isaid,butinthesamemomentIsawthatthisfathermightbeusefultome.“Howdoesyourbabysleep,William?”Iaskedinalowvoice,“howdoesshewakeup?whatdoyouputinherbath?”
Isawsurpriseinhisface,soIhurriedonwithoutwaitingforananswer.“Thatlittlegirlcomesherewithamessagefromyourwife?”
“Yes,sir,everyevening;she’smyeldest,andthreenodsfromhermeansthatthemissusisalittlebetter.”
“Therewerethreenodsto-day?”
“Yes,sir.
“Isupposeyouliveinsomelowpart,William?”
Theimpudentfellowlookedasifhecouldhavestruckme.“OffDruryLane,”hesaid,flushing,“butitisn’tlow.Andnow,”hegroaned,“she’safearedshewilldiewithoutmybeingtheretoholdherhand.”
“Sheshouldnotsaysuchthings.”
“Sheneversaysthem,sir.Shealluspretendstobefeelingstronger.ButIknowswhatisinhermindwhenIamleavingthehouseinthemorning,forthenshelooksatmefromherbed,andIlooksatherfromthedoor—oh,myGod,sir!”
“William!”
AtlasthesawthatIwasangry,anditwascharacteristicofhimtobegmypardonandwithdrawhiswifeasifsheweresomeunsuccessfuldish.Itriedtoforgethisvulgarstoryinbilliards,buthehadspoiledmygame,andnextdaytopunishhimIgavemyordersthroughanotherwaiter.
