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The Inconsiderate Waiter

           

           IremainedlongerthanwasnecessarybecauseIhadsomethingtosaytoWilliamwhichIfearedhewouldmisunderstand,butwhenheannouncedthatitwastimeforhimtocatchatrainbacktoLondon,atwhichhiswifepaled,Ideliveredthemessage.

           “William,”Isaid,backingawayfromhim,“thehead-waiteraskedmetosaythatyoucouldtakeafortnight’sholiday.Yourwageswillbepaidasusual.”

           Confoundhim.

           “William,”Icriedfuriously,“goaway.”

           ThenIsawhiswifesigningtohim,andIknewshewantedtobeleftalonewithme.

           “William,”Icriedinapanic,“staywhereyouare.”

           Buthewasgone,andIwasalonewithawomanwhoseeyeswerefilmy.Herclassarefondofscenes.“Ifyouplease,ma’am!”Isaidimploringly.

           Butshekissedmyhand;shewaslikealittledog.

           “Itcanbeonlythememoryofsomewoman,”saidshe,“thatmakesyousokindtomeandmine.”

           Memorywasthewordsheused,asifallmyyouthwerefled.IsupposeIreallyamquiteelderly.

           “Ishouldliketoknowhername,sir,”shesaid,“thatImaymentionherwithlovingrespectinmyprayers.”

           Iraisedthewomanandtoldherthename.ItwasnotMary.“Butshehasahome,”Isaid,“asyouhave,andIhavenone.Perhaps,ma’am,itwouldbebetterworthyourwhiletomentionme.”

           Itwasthiswoman,nowinhealth,whomIintrustedwiththepurchaseoftheoutfits,“oneforaboyofsixmonths,”Iexplainedtoher,“andoneforaboyofayear,”forthepainterhadboastedtomeofDavid’srapidgrowth.

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Roboto Lora
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