He then entered, bearing a tray enveloped in snowy linen.

This tray he put down, then spread a tablecloth that he had brought over one arm.
"Will you be seated, _caballeros_ ?" he asked, respectfully, as he took his stand by the tray.

Then he whisked away the linen cover.

Gravely he set upon the table a pot of chocolate, two dainty cups and saucers and a plate containing four rolls.
"Where's the butter, Nicolas ?" asked Harry.
"Butter, _caballero_?
I did not understand that you wished it.
I will get it.

I will run all the way to the kitchen and back." "Never mind the butter this morning, Nicolas," spoke up Tom, at the same time kicking Harry gently under the table.
"Can I serve you further, now, _caballeros_" inquired Nicolas, with great respect, "or shall I bring you the remainder of your breakfast ?" "Bring us the rest of the breakfast, by all means," begged Harry, and the servant left them.
"Why did you tell him not to mind the butter ?" grunted Hazelton.
"Because," Tom answered, "it struck me that, in Mexico, it may not be customary to serve butter in the morning." Harry took a bite of one of the rolls, finding it to be soft, flaky and delicious.