t
plan is to take him in hand at the beginning and disillusion him; sweep
aside his talk of '84 Perrier Jouet, followed by a '79 Chateau Lafite,
and ask him, as man to man, if he can conscientiously recommend the Saint
Julien at two-and-six. After that he settles down to his work and talks
sense.

The fatherly waiter is sometimes a comfort. You feel that he knows best.
Your instinct is to address him as "Uncle." But you remember yourself in
time. When you are dining a lady, however, and wish to appear important,
he is apt to be in the way. It seems, somehow, to be his dinner. You
have a sense almost of being _de trop_.

The greatest insult you can offer a waiter is to mistake him for your
waiter. You think he is your waiter--there is the bald head, the black
side-whiskers, the Roman nose. But your waiter had blue eyes, this man
soft hazel. You had forgotten to notice the eyes. You bar his progress
and ask him for the red pepper. The haughty contempt with which he
regards you is painful to bear. It is as if you had insulted a lady. He
appears to be saying the same thing:

"I think you have made a mistake. You are possibly confusing me with
somebody else; I have not the honour of your acquaintance."

How to insult him.

I do not wish it to be understood that I am in the habit of insulting
ladies, but occasionally I have made an innocent mistake, and have met
with some such response. The wrong waiter conveys to me precisely the
same feeling of humiliation.

"I will send your waiter to you," he answers. His tone implies that
there are waiters and waiters; some may not mind what class of person
they serve: others, though poor, have their self-respect. It is clear to
you now why your waiter is keeping away from you; the man is ashamed of
being your waiter. He is watching, probably, for an opportunity to
approach you when nobody is looking. The other waiter finds him for you.
He was hiding behind a screen.

"Table forty-two wants you," the other tells him. The tone of voice
adds:

"If you like to encourage this class of customer that is your business;
but don't ask me to have anything to do with him."

Even the waiter has his feelings.

CHAPTER XI

The everlasting Newness of Woman.

An Oriental visitor was returning from our shores to his native land.

"Well," asked the youthful diplomatist who had been told off to show him
round, as on the deck of the steamer they shook han