“Oh,” said the negro, “dey might have deh little pleasuhs now an’ den, but dey cain’t hev no sich good times like othah folks kin.  A man ’t ’s a ’ligious man, he cain’t hev no sich good times like Mistuh Wahtuhbe’y’s an’ dem folks ’at was heah up to laist week.  Ah was Mistuh Wahtuhbe’y’s chaih boy.  He gimme ninety-two dollahs an’ fifty cents tips one week!  Yassuh!  Dat might be cha’ity but ’t ain’t ’ligion.  Mistuh Dodge, his chaih boy’s been a-wohkin’ foh ’im six weeks.  I ‘spec’ Mistuh Dodge give dat boy fahve hund’ud dollahs if he give ’im a cent!  Mistuh Wahtuhbe’y’s pahty, dey haid nineteen chaihs waitin’ on ’em all de time, jest foh t’ drive ’em f’om de ho-tel to de club, an’ de casino.  Dat cos’ ’em nineteen hund’ud dollahs a week, and de boys, dey ain’t one o’em ‘at git less’n hund’ud dolluhs fo’ hisself.  Dat’s de kin’ o’ gen’men Mistuh Wahtuhbe’y an’ his pahty is.  Ah’s haid sev’ul gen’men dis season dat ain’t what you’d jes’ say, ’ligious, but dey was, as folks calls it, p’ofuse.  Dey was one ol’ gen’man heah two weeks, an’ deh was a young lady what he haid a attachment on, an’ evvy evenin’ ‘e use’ t’ take huh foh a wheel-chaih ride in de moonlight.  Fuhst night Ah took ‘em out he tuhn to me, an’ he says:  ’Look-a-heah, boy!  You sho you knows youah duties?’

“‘Yassuh, boss,’ Ah tell ’im.  ‘Deed Ah does!’

“‘Den what is youah duties den?’ sez ’e.

“Ah say:  ‘Boss, de chaih boy’s duties, dey’s to be dumb, an’ deef, an’ blin’, an’ dey cain’t see nothin’, an’ dey cain’t say nothin’, an’ dey cain’t heah nothin’, and dey cain’t—­’

“’Dass ‘nuff,’ he say.  ’Ah sees you knows youah business.  Heah’s fiffy dollahs.’”

“Well,” one of us asked presently, “what happened?”

“Ah took ’em ridin’ through de jungle trail, boss,” he returned, innocently.

“What did they do?”

“How does Ah know, boss?  Di’n’ Ah have ma eyes covuhed wi’ dat fiffy dollahs?  Di’n’ Ah have ma eahs stuff’ wid it?  Yassuh!  An’ Ah got ma mouf full o’ it yit!”

The chair boys, bell boys, waiters, barbers, porters, bartenders, waitresses, chambermaids, manicures, and shop attendants one finds in Palm Beach, Belleair, Miami, and many other winter resorts, are, numerically, a not inconsiderable part of the season’s population, and the lives of these people who form a background of service, of which many an affluent visitor is hardly conscious, parallel the lives of the rich in a manner that is not without a note of caricature.

When the rich go South so do the hordes that serve them; when the Florida season begins to close and the rich move northward, the serving population likewise begins to melt away; if you are in Palm Beach near the season’s end, and move up to St. Augustine, or Jacksonville, or Augusta, or any one of a dozen other places, you are likely to recognize, here and there, a waiter, a bell-boy, or a chambermaid whom you tipped, some weeks earlier, preparatory to leaving