places, and, as we took them, making the national circle complete, a
little smile wavered round the table. It was a proud, conscious smile;
it indicated that though we might not be on terms of intimacy we
recognised ourselves to be immensely and uniformly American, and
considerably the biggest fraction of the travelling public. As poppa
said, the prevailing feeling was also American. As he was tucking his
napkin into his waistcoat, and ordering our various breakfasts, the
gentleman who sat next to him listened--he could not help it--fidgetted,
and finally, with some embarrassment, spoke.

"I don't know, sir," he said, "whether you're aware of it--I presume
you're a stranger, like myself--but all they _allow_ for what they call
breakfast in this hotel is tea or coffee, rolls, and butter; everything
else is charged extra."

Poppa was touched. As he said to me afterward, who but an American
would have taken the trouble to tell a stranger a thing like that! Not
an Englishman, certainly--he would see you bankrupt first! He disguised
his own sophistication, and said he was very much obliged, and he almost
apologised for not being able to take advantage of the information, and
stick to coffee and rolls.

"But the fact is," he said in self-defence, "we may get back for lunch
and we may not."

"That's all right," the gentleman replied with distinct relief. "I
didn't mind the omelette or the sole, but when it came to fried chicken
and strawberries I just had to speak out. You going to make a long stay
in Paris?"