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288 MEMOIRS (XF JOSEPH GUIMALDI.
had better ring for the waiter : I have no doubt he can explain
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
"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!"