David Copperfield by Charles Dickens Chapter 19 Page 41

‘Ain’t you?’ said the waiter.

‘Young gentlemen is generally tired of beef and mutton: have a weal cutlet!’

I assented to this proposal, in default of being able to suggest anything else.

‘Do you care for taters?’ said the waiter, with an insinuating smile, and his head on one side. ‘Young gentlemen generally has been overdosed with taters.’

I commanded him, in my deepest voice, to order a veal cutlet and potatoes, and all things fitting; and to inquire at the bar if there were any letters for Trotwood Copperfield, Esquire — which I knew there were not, and couldn’t be, but thought it manly to appear to expect.

He soon came back to say that there were none