I don't know, sir. Haven't had you here before, I think."
"Oh, you're very clever, you Londoners. I don't doubt you can all see
through a brick wall. Yes, I'm from the country--but I'm beginning to
know my way about the town too. Ever bin on a steamboat to Rodhaven?"
"Rodhaven? No, sir."
Then Dale told the waiter about the heaths and downs and woods that
lie between Rodhaven and Old Manninglea.
"Prettiest part of the world that I know of," he said proudly. "You
spend your next holiday there. Take the four-horse sharrybank from
Rodhaven pier--and when you get to the Roebuck at Rodchurch, you get
off of the vehicle and ask for the Postmaster."
"Yes, sir?"
"He won't eat you," and Dale laughed with intense enjoyment of his
humor. "He's not a bad chap really, though his neighbors say he's a
bit of a Tartar. I give you my word he'll receive you, decently, and
stand you dinner into the bargain. I know he will--and for why?
Because I am that gentleman myself."
He could not resist the pleasure of rounding off his sentence with the
grand word "Gentleman," and he was gratified by the waiter's meekly
obsequious reception of the word.
"Thank you, sir. Much obliged, sir."
When leaving, he gave the waiter a generous tip.
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