mouth was agape.

"What are you looking for?" I asked.

He stared at me, and then, like one who had at last heard the echo of my
question, seemed to be brought back to the club. He turned his face from
me for an instant, and answered shakily:

"I beg your pardon, sir! I--I shouldn't have done it. Are the bananas
too ripe, sir?"

He recommended the nuts, and awaited my verdict so anxiously while I ate
one that I was about to speak graciously, when I again saw his eyes drag
him to the window.

"William," I said, my patience giving way at last, "I dislike being
waited on by a melancholy waiter."

"Yes, sir," he replied, trying to smile, and then broke out
passionately, "For God's sake, sir, tell me, have you seen a little girl
looking in at the club windows?"

He had been a good waiter once, and his distracted visage was spoiling
my dinner.

"There," I said, pointing to the girl, and no doubt would have added
that he must bring me coffee immediately, had he continued to listen.
But already he was beckoning to the child. I have not the least interest
in her (indeed, it had never struck me that waiters had private affairs,
and I still think it a pity that they should have); but as I happened to
be looking out at the window I could not avoid seeing what occurred.
As soon as the girl saw William she ran into the street, regardless of
vehicles, and nodded three times to him. Then she disappeared.

I have said that she was quite a common child, without attraction of
any sort, and yet it was amazing the difference she made in William. He
gasped relief, like one who had broken through the anxiety that checks
breathing, and into his face there came a silly laugh of happiness. I
had dined well, on the whole, so I said:

"I am glad to see you cheerful again, William."

I meant that I approved his cheerfulness because it helped my digestion,
but he must needs think I was sympathising with him.

"Thank you, sir," he answered. "Oh, sir! when she nodded and I saw it
was all right I could have gone down on my knees to God."

I was as much horrified as if he had dropped a plate on my toes. Even
William, disgracefully emotional as he was at the moment, flung out his
arms to recall the shameful words.

"Coffee, William!" I said, sharply.

I sipped my coffee indignantly, for it was plain to me that William had
something on his mind.

"You are not vexed with me, sir?" he had the hardihood to whisper.

"It was a liberty,"