on the committee," I replied lightly, and proceeded to talk of
other matters, but presently B----, who had been reflecting, said: "Do
you know I fancy I was wrong in thinking that the waiter swore at me,
and I shall withdraw the charge to-morrow."
I was pleased to find that William's troubles were near an end without
my having to interfere in his behalf, and I then remembered that he
would not be able to see the girl Irene from the library windows,
which are at the back of the club. I was looking down at her, but
she refrained from signalling because she could not see William, and
irritated by her stupidity I went out and asked her how her mother was.
"My," she ejaculated after a long scrutiny of me, "I b'lieve you are
one of them!" and she gazed at me with delighted awe. I suppose William
tells them of our splendid doings.
The invalid, it appeared, was a bit better, and this annoying child
wanted to inform William that she had took all the tapiocar. She was to
indicate this by licking an imaginary plate in the middle of Pall
Mall. I gave the little vulgarian a shilling, and returned to the club
disgusted.
"By the way, William," I said, "Mr. B---- is to inform the committee
that he was mistaken in thinking you used improper language to him, so
you will doubtless be restored to the dining-room to-morrow."
I had to add immediately, "Remember your place, William."
"But Mr. B---- knows I swore," he insisted.
"A gentleman," I replied stiffly, "cannot remember for many hours what a
waiter has said to him."
"No, sir, but--"
To stop him I had to say, "And--ah--William, your wife is decidedly
better. She has eaten the tapioca--all of it."
"How can you know, sir?"
"By an accident."
"Irene signed to the window?"
"No."
"Then you saw her and went out and--"
"How dare you, William?"
"Oh, sir, to do that for me! May God bl--"
"William."
He was reinstated in the dining-room, but often when I looked at him I
seemed to see a dying wife in his face, and so the relations between us
were still strained. But I watched the girl, and her pantomime was so
illuminating that I knew the sufferer had again cleaned the platter on
Tuesday, had attempted a boiled egg on Wednesday (you should have seen
Irene chipping it in Pall Mall, and putting in the salt), but was in a
woful state of relapse on Thursday.
"Is your mother very ill to-day, Miss Irene?" I asked, as soon as I had
drawn her out of range of the
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