I felt quite apologetic for Traddles.

‘He’s a young man, sure?’ said the portentous waiter, fixing his eyes severely on me.

‘How long has he been in the Inn?’

‘Not above three years,’ said I.

The waiter, who I supposed had lived in his churchwarden’s pew for forty years, could not pursue such an insignificant subject. He asked me what I would have for dinner?

I felt I was in England again, and really was quite cast down on Traddles’s account. There seemed to be no hope for him. I meekly ordered a bit of fish and a steak, and stood before the fire musing on his obscurity.

As I followed the chief