"I'm sorry, sir," says he, "but I'm afraid I'm stupid about such
things. I can sometimes recall names very readily, but faces--"

"How long since you quit jugglin' pies and sandwiches at the
quick-lunch joint?" says I.

"Three months, sir," says he prompt.

"Tied the can to you, did they?" says I.

"I was discharged, sir," says Cyril. "The proprietor objected to my
talking so much to customers. I suppose he was quite right. One of my
many failings, sir."

"I believe you," says I. "So you took up buttling, eh? Wa'n't that
some nervy jump?"

"I considered it a helpful step in my career," says he.

"Your which?" says I.

"Perhaps I should put it," says he, "that the work seemed to offer the
discipline which would make me most useful to our noble order."

And as he says the last two words he puts his palms at right angles to
his ears, thumbs in, and bows three times.

"Eh?" says I, gawpin'.