“Yes,” I muttered, “if I can manage not to drop another tray!” Then the breakfast bell brought the hurried, chattering, hungry crowd of young men and women into the room again, though, at this meal, they were less formidable in their every-day clothes. Some brought books, others writing pads. Fountain pens and pencils projected from the outer pockets of the men, and were stabbed in the hair of the women. My tables were soon lined with students. They, too, seemed to have met me, long ago, in the remote past and to some of them I must have been at least a third cousin or present at a family party, so freely and lavishly did the greetings come: greetings that put me at my ease because I felt that they came from sincere hearts. The floor was ready to bend under the weight of the crowd that stood waiting behind the chairs for Brock’s signal to sit. Like a stern, powerful, determining Ruler, the head waiter stood at the opposite end of the room, with his eye on his watch, not willing to press his thumb on the Sunday-School bell until the instant seven o’clock arrived. Eyes looked longingly on the hot, fried potatoes. It was no use. Seven o’clock was a minute off. Some rumbled the legs of the chairs. To no purpose. The German had patience. Finally the snap of the bell sent every man and woman to the table accompanied by the roar of scraping chairs, thumping feet, and expressions of satisfaction. Near the head of my first table sat a very young, pink-cheeked Southern girl possessed of charming, gracious ways. Her “Mr. Priddy, please, a spoon,” was as musical as ever a request could be. It made me feel sorry that the spoon was not gold instead of German metal. Consequently, when she asked me for a third glass of water during the first five minutes of breakfast, it was no small happiness for me to secure it, as speedily as possible, for her. But on my return with the third glass her neighbor asked for one. On my return with that, the Southern girl had her glass emptied. So it went for ten minutes: each one of them drinking amounts of water sufficient for ducks or geese to swim in--it seemed to me. Finally, on picking up a fork some one had let fall on the floor, I saw several glasses, full to the brim with water, under the Southern girl’s chair. She had been initiating me. With a broad wink at the others, I very slyly sprinkled some pepper on the glass of water before her when her head was turned and then waited for results. They soon came. She reached for her glass, took a sip, and then commenced to choke. “What is the matter, miss?” I asked, “will you have some more water?” She looked at me in resentful astonishment, at first, and then seeing that the others at the table were laughing, she joined in with them, saying, “Who peppered the water?” “Was there pepper in the water?” asked one across the table.