It was not that the
editor ever said anything that was not kind and friendly; he was
always doing kind and friendly things, and he appeared to take a
real interest in Lemuel. At the end of the first week after Lemuel
had added the head waitership to his other duties, Evans stopped in
going out of the dining-room and put a dollar in his hand.
"What is it for?" asked Lemuel.
"For? Really, I don't know. It must be tribute-money," said the
editor in surprise, but with a rising curiosity. "I never know what
it's for."
Lemuel turned red, and handed it back. "I don't know as I want any
money I haven't earned."
That night, after dinner, when Evans was passing the office door on
his way out of the hotel, Lemuel stopped him and said with
embarrassment, "Mr. Evans, I don't want you should think I didn't
appreciate your kindness this morning."
"Ah, I'm not sure it was kindness," said Evans with immediate
interest. "Why didn't you take the money?"
"Well, I told you why," said Lemuel, overcoming the obscure
reluctance he felt at Evans's manner as best he could. "I've been
thinking it over, and I guess I was right; but I didn't know whether
I had expressed it the best way."
"The way couldn't be improved. But why did you think you hadn't
earned my dollar?"
"I don't do anything but open the doors, and show people to their
places; I don't call that anything.
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