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Updated: May 3, 2025
Her tranquillity was unruffled by the fact that the head-waitress had left, just before tea; she presumed they could get along just as well without her as with her: the boarders had spoiled her, anyway.
You're certainly a wonder-child, Mrs. McChesney. Why, the boys " Emma McChesney sighed, somberly. "That line does sort of well, tug at your heart-strings, doesn't it?" She smiled, almost wistfully. "Say, Billy, when you reach the Eagle House at Waterloo, tell Annie, the head-waitress to rustle you a couple of Mrs. Traudt's dill pickles. Tell her Mrs. McChesney asked you to. Mrs.
They deposited their hats on the racks and pushed open the swinging screen doors that led into the dining-room. There they were taken in charge by a marvellously haughty and redundant head-waitress, who signalled them to follow down through ranks of small tables watched by more stately damsels.
Of medium height, spare, thin chested and thin lipped, her hair already streaked with grey, Emily had been less a servant than a grimly devoted friend. Since Ethel's departure, she had been head-waitress at the small hotel. "Emily will come," thought Ethel, "unless she's dead or paralysed." And Emily came. "Well, Miss Ethel, here I am," she said on her arrival.
Newmark, reserved and precise, irreproachably correct in his neat gray, seemed enveloped in an aloofness as impenetrable as that of the head-waitress herself. Orde, however, was as breezy as ever. He hastened his stride to overtake the head-waitress. "Annie, be good!" he said in his jolly way. "We've got business to talk. Put us somewhere alone."
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