Our vague idea was that the interpreter would be a conspicuous and permanent object like a nickle-in-the-slot machine, automatically arranged to open his arms to tourists presenting the right tickets, and emit conversation.

When we finally detected him, by his cap, he was shifting uneasily in the midst of a crowd of inquirers.

His face was pale, his beard pointed, his expression that of a person constantly interrupted in many languages.

The crowd was parting to permit him to escape, when we filled up the available avenue and confronted him.
"Are you the linguist that goes with our tickets ?" asked the Senator.
"I am ze interpretare yes, but weez ze tickets I go not, no.

All-ways I stay here in zis place, nowheres I go." He stood at bay, so to speak, frowning fiercely as he replied, and then made another bolt for liberty, but poppa laid a compelling hand upon his arm.
"If it's all the same to you," said poppa, firmly, "I've got ladies with me, and----" "Yes certainly you get presently your tronks.