In Which Barnabas Makes a Bet, and Receives a Warning

Thus, then, the perspicacious waiter at the "George" who, it will be
remembered, on his own avowal usually kept his eyes and ears open,
and could, therefore, see as far through a brick wall as most, knew
at once that the tall young gentleman in the violet coat with silver
buttons, the buckled hat and glossy Hessians, whose sprigged
waistcoat and tortuous cravat were wonders among their kind, was
none other than a certain Mr. Beverley, who had succeeded in
entering his horse at the last possible moment, and who, though an
outsider with not the remotest chance of winning, was, nevertheless,
something of a buck and dandy, the friend of a Marquis and Viscount,
and hence worthy of all respect. Therefore the perspicacious waiter
at the "George" viewed Barnabas with the eye of reverence, his back
was subservient, and his napkin eloquent of eager service, also he
bowed as frequently and humbly as such expensive and elegant attire
merited; for the waiter at the "George" had as just and reverent a
regard for fine clothes as any fine gentleman in the Fashionable
World.

"A chair, sir!" Here a flick of the officious napkin. "Now shall we
say a chop, sir?" Here a smiling obeisance. "Or shall we make it a
steak, sir--cut thick, sir--medium done, and with--"

"No, thank you," said Barnabas, laying aside hat and cane.

"No, sir? Very good, sir! Certainly not, sir! A cut o' b'iled beef
might suit, p'raps,--with carrots? or shall we say--"

"Neither, thank you, but you can bring me a bottle of Burgundy and
the Gazette."