bowing so low that I could feel
a chill running through my little bank account.

"I guess he means you," I whispered to Peaches, but she looked very
solemnly at the menu card and began to bite her lips.

"_Je suis tout a votre service,_" the waiter cross-countered before I
could recover, and he had me gasping. It never struck me that I had to
take a course in French before entering the Builtfast hunger foundry,
and there I sat making funny faces at the tablecloth, while friend wife
blushed crimson and the waiter kept on bowing like an animated
jackknife.

"Say, Mike!" I ventured after a bit, "tip us off to a quiet bunch of
eating that will fit a couple of appetites just out seeing the sights.
Nothing that will put a kink in a year's income, you know, Bo; just
suggest some little thing that looks better than it tastes, but is not
too expensive to keep down."

"_Oui, oui!_" His Marseillaise came back at me, "_un diner comfortable
doit se composer de potage, de volaille bouillie ou rotie, chaude ou
froide, de gibier, de plats rares et distingues, de poissons, de
sucreries, de patisseries et de fruits!_"

I looked at my wife, she looked at me, then we both looked out the
window and wished we had never been born.

"Say, Garsong," I said, after we came to, "my wife is a daughter of the
American Revolution and she's so patriotic she eats only in United
States, so cut out the Moulin Rouge lyrics and let's get down to cases.
How much will it set me back if I order a plain steak--just enough to
flirt with two very polite appetites?"

"Nine dollars and seventy cents," said Joan of Arc's brother Bill; "the
seventy cents is for the steak and the nine dollars will help some to
pay for the Looey the Fifteenth furniture in the bridal chamber."

"Save the money, John," whispered Peaches, "and we'll buy a pianola with
it."

"How about a sliver of roast beef with some simple vegetable," I said
to the waiter. "Is it a bull market for an order like that?"

"Three dollars and forty-two cents," answered Henri of Navarre;
"forty-two cents for the order and three dollars to help pay for the
French velvet curtains in the golden suite on the second floor."

"Keep on guessing, John; you'll wear him out," Peaches whispered.

"Possibly a little cold lamb with a suggestion of potato salad on the
side might satisfy us," I said; "make me an estimate."

"Four dollars and eighteen cents," replied Patsey Boulanger; "eighteen
cents for the