Englishman. [Paying] Thanks. [To his wife, in an Oxford voice] Sugar?

ENGLISHWOMAN. [In a Cambridge voice] One.

American traveller. [With field-glasses and a pocket camera from another table] Waiter, I’d like to have you get my eggs.  I’ve been sitting here quite a while.

Waiter.  Yes, sare.

German traveller.  ‘Kellner, bezahlen’! [His voice is, like his moustache, stiff and brushed up at the ends.  His figure also is stiff and his hair a little grey; clearly once, if not now, a colonel.]

Waiter.  ‘Komm’ gleich’!

     [The baby on the bundle wails.  The mother takes it up to soothe
     it.  A young, red-cheeked Dutchman at the fourth table stops
     eating and laughs.]

American.  My eggs!  Get a wiggle on you!

Waiter.  Yes, sare. [He rapidly recedes.]

     [A little man in a soft hat is seen to the right of tables.  He
     stands a moment looking after the hurrying waiter, then seats
     himself at the fifth table.]

Englishman. [Looking at his watch] Ten minutes more.

ENGLISHWOMAN.  Bother!

American. [Addressing them] ’Pears as if they’d a prejudice against eggs here, anyway.

     [The English look at him, but do not speak. ]

German. [In creditable English] In these places man can get nothing.

     [The waiter comes flying back with a compote for the Dutch
     youth, who pays.]

German.  ‘Kellner, bezahlen’!

Waiter.  ‘Eine Krone sechzig’.

     [The German pays.]

American. [Rising, and taking out his watch—­blandly] See here.  If I don’t get my eggs before this watch ticks twenty, there’ll be another waiter in heaven.

Waiter. [Flying] ‘Komm’ gleich’!

American. [Seeking sympathy] I’m gettin’ kind of mad!

     [The Englishman halves his newspaper and hands the advertisement
     half to his wife.  The baby wails.  The mother rocks it.]

[The Dutch youth stops eating and laughs.  The German lights a cigarette.  The little man sits motionless, nursing his hat.  The waiter comes flying back with the eggs and places them before the American.]

American. [Putting away his watch] Good!  I don’t like trouble.  How much?

     [He pays and eats.  The waiter stands a moment at the edge of
     the platform and passes his hand across his brow.  The little
     man eyes him and speaks gently.]

Little man.  Herr Ober!

     [The waiter turns.]

Might I have a glass of beer?