When we return to the hotel the night porter reports that he has not found my umbrella. So I must go off without it. Our train leaves at ten minutes past five this afternoon, and we shall be in London early in the evening. It is now four o'clock: we have ordered dinner for this hour, and so we sit down to our soup. "Please give us our dinner without any delay now," I say to the pompous head-waiter, "for we must take the train at ten minutes past five." The man bows stiffly and retires. We finish the soup, and wait. When we get tired of waiting we call the head-waiter to us: "Are you hastening our dinner?" "Fish directly, sir," he answers, and walks solemnly away. We begin to grow fidgety. Fifteen minutes since the soup, and no fish yet. Bunker swears he'll blow the head-waiter up in another minute. Just as he is quite ready for this explosion the fish arrives. All hail! I lay it open. "Why, it's not done!" I cry in consternation. "There, there! Take it away, and bring the meat." With an air of grave offence the man bears it solemnly out. Then we wait again. And wait. And wait. "Good gracious!" cries Bunker, "here's half an hour gone, and we've had nothing but soup! I really must blow this fellow up." "Stop! there it comes." Enter the waiter with great dignity, and solemnly deposits before us--the fish again! He has had it recooked. We attack it hurriedly, and bid the waiter for Goodness' sake bring the rest of the dinner _instantly_, or we must leave it. "And I'm about half starved," growls Bunker. More waiting. Five minutes pass. Ten. "Oh come, I can't stand this!" cries Bunker, jumping up with his napkin round his neck, and striding over to the head-waiter, where he stands in a Turveydroppy attitude, leaning against a sideboard with his arms folded. "Look here!" Bunker ejaculates: "_can_ you be made to understand that we are in a hurry? Would half a dollar be any inducement to you to wake up and look around lively? Because we have got to take those cars in exactly twelve minutes," showing his watch, "and as the dinner is already paid for, I want to get it before I go." "Certainly, sir," says the pompous ass with slow indifference, "dinner directly. John!" to our waiter, who is now placing the meat on the table, "serve the genl'm'n's dinner _directly_." Bunker stares at the fellow as Clown stares at Harlequin after having cut him in two, in dumb amazement at the fact that Harlequin is not in the least disturbed by being cut in two. "I wonder," he mutters as he returns to the table, "if that unmitigated wooden image of a dunderhead would pay any attention if I were to kick him?" "No--not if you were to tie a pack of fire-crackers to his coat-tail and light them. He knows his business too well. The first duty of an English head-waiter is to be dignified, as it is that of a French head-waiter to be vigilant and polite."