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It was of course impossible to eat much of the generous dish of 'am-an'-eggs which the waiter brought me up, but I dallied over it as long as possible, and managed to swallow a cup of rather indifferent coffee. Then I smoked another cigar, and when the things were cleared away and the writing materials had arrived, I made a pretence of beginning my letter.
Inside was a sleepy-looking waiter in his shirt-sleeves engaged in the leisurely pursuit of rolling up napkins. "Good-morning," I said; "can I have some coffee and something to eat upstairs?" He regarded me for a moment with a rather startled air, and then pulled himself together. "Yes, saire. Too early for lunch, saire. 'Am-an'-eggs, saire?" I nodded.
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