Page:Christopher Morley--Tales from a rolltop desk.djvu/154

rear door like men possessed. They careered in with trays of steaming viands, crashed them down on the bare tables, and fled out again, napkins streaming behind them like pennants. Once they had delivered your food it seemed impossible to catch their gaze, for we tried to hail one to ask for ketchup. It was no use. He flew hither and yon with frantic and single-minded energy.

"These waiters speed like dervishes," I said. "Evidently the no-tip rule does not lessen their zeal."

"Perhaps they get a share in the profits of the enterprise," said Dulcet, placidly.

Just behind us was a small barred window looking out on a street. It was at the ground level, and looking through the dusty pane I could see horses' hoofs going by, and the feet of pedestrians. Suddenly there was a great clang and crash outside, and I turned to look.

"What's up?" said Dulcet, who was cheerfully disposing of his chop as well as his neighbour's elbow would permit him.

"They seem to have spilled some beans," I said, peering through the dusky aperture. "There's a truck delivering food or something at the back door. They've tipped over a can, I think."

"Spilled some beans?" he said, with his first