“One moment,” I said.  “Let me make my position clear in this matter:  This Lady Susanna—­I do not know her last name, but you will doubtless recall the person I mean, because I saw several pictures of her yesterday in your national art gallery—­this Lady Susanna may have enjoyed taking a bath with a lot of snoopy old elders lurking round in the background; but I am not so constituted.  I was raised differently from that.  With me, bathing has ever been a solitary pleasure.  This may denote selfishness on my part; but such is my nature and I cannot alter it.  All my folks feel about it as I do.  We are a very peculiar family that way.  When bathing we do not invite an audience.  Nor do I want one.  A crowd would only embarrass me.  I merely desire a little privacy and, here and there, a towel.”

“Ah, yes!  Quite so, sir,” he said; “but you do not understand me.  As I said before, you ring for the waiter or the maid.  When one of them comes you tell them to send you the manservant on your floor; and when he comes you tell him you require towels, and he goes to the linen cupboard and gets them and fetches them to you, sir.  It’s very simple, sir.”

“But why,” I persisted, “why do this thing by a relay system?  I don’t want any famishing gentleman in this place to go practically unmarmaladed at breakfast because I am using the waiter to conduct preliminary negotiations with a third party in regard to a bathtowel.”

“But it is so very simple, sir,” he repeated patiently.  “You ring for the waiter or the ma—­”

I checked him with a gesture.  I felt that I knew what he meant to say; I also felt that if any word of mine might serve to put this establishment on an easy-running basis they could have it and welcome.

“Listen!” I said.  “You will kindly pardon the ignorance of a poor, red, partly damp American who has shed his eagle feathers but still has his native curiosity with him!  Why not put a third button in that bathroom labeled Manservant or Valet or Towel Boy, or something of that general nature?  And then when a sufferer wanted towels, and wanted ’em quick, he could get them without blocking the wheels of progress and industry.  We may still be shooting Mohawk Indians and the American bison in the streets of Buffalo, New York; and we may still be saying:  ’By Geehosaphat, I swan to calculate! —­aanyway, I note that we still say that in all your leading comic papers; but when a man in my land goes a-toweling, he goes a-toweling —­and that is all there is to it, positively!  In our secret lodges it may happen that the worshipful master calls the august swordbearer to him and bids him communicate with the grand outer guardian and see whether the candidate is suitably attired for admission; but in ordinary life we cut out the middleman wherever possible.  Do you get my drift?”

“Oh, yes, sir,” he said; “but I fear you do not understand me.  As I told you, it’s very simple—­so very simple, sir.  We’ve never found it necessary to make a change.  You ring for the waiter or for the maid, and you tell them to tell the manservant—­”