288 MEMOIRS (XF JOSEPH GUIMALDI. had better ring for the waiter : I have no doubt he can explain the matter." The bell was rung, and the waiter came. " Oh! here's a mistake, waiter," said Bologna, handing him the bill. " You have charged me for supper every night here, and you'll remember I only had a "Welsh rare-bit. Just get it altered, will you ?" " I beg your pardon, sir," replied the waiter, glancing from the bill to the customer ; " it's quite right, sir." " Q,uite right ?" " Quite, sir : it's the rule of the house, sir—the rule of every house on the road—to charge in that way. Half-a-crown for supper, sir ; cold beef, fowl, game, or bread and cheese: always half-a-crown, sir. There were a great many other dishes that you might have had; but you recollect giving a particular order for a Welsh rare-bit, sir ?" The saving man said not another word, but paid the nine half-crowns for the nine Welsh rare-bits, to his own great wrath and his friend's unspeakable amusement. The next morning they returned to London, and on the road Grrimaldi had another instance of his companion's parsimony, which determined MTTI never to travel in his company again. When the coach came to the door, he was perfectly amazed to find that the economical Harlequin was going to travel oxitside, but not surprised to hear him whisper, when he expressed his astonishment, that he should save a pound by it, or more. "Yes," answered Grrimaldi, " and catch a cold by sitting out- side all night, after your exertions at the theatre, which will cost you 201. at least." "You know nothing about it," replied Eologna, with a wink: " I shall be safe inside as well as you." " What! and pay outside fare ?" ' *' Just so," replied he. " I'll tell you how it is. I've ascer-lsh rare-bite!"