DILATORY DINNERS.
SCENE—The Grounds of a certain Exhibition. On this particular evening, there has been a slight hitch in the culinary arrangements, and the relations between the Chef and the Waiters are apparently strained. Enter an Egotistic Amphitryon, followed by a meek and youthful Guest.
The Egotistic Amphitryon (concluding an harangue). Well, all I've got to say is I've been here half-an-hour—(with a bitter sense of the anomaly of the situation)—waiting about for You!! (They seat themselves at one of the little tables under the verandah.) Oh, you're going to sit that side, are you? It's all the same to me, except that there's a confounded draught here which—well, you're young, and these things don't affect you—or oughtn't to. (They exchange sides.) We shall have to hurry our dinner now, if we mean to hear anything of the music. That was the reason I expressly told you seven sharp. Here, Waiter! (Waiter presents a carte, and stands by with a proud humility.) Now, what are you going to have? (To Guest.) You don't mind? I hate to hear a man say he doesn't care what he eats—he ought to care, he must care. What do you say to this—"Potage Bisque d'écrivisses; Saumon Sauce Hollandaise; Brimborions de veau farcis à l'imprévu; Ducklings and green peas; New Potatoes; Salad"? Simple and, ah, satisfying. (To Waiter.) Let us have that as sharp as you can; do you hear?
Waiter. Quick? Yes, I dell zem. [He hurries off.
The E.A. Hang the fellow, he's forgotten the wine! (To Guest.) What will you drink?
The Guest (thinks it will look greedy if he suggests champagne). Oh—er—whatever you're going to drink.
The E.A. Well, I'm going to have a glass of champagne myself. I want it after all this worry. But if you prefer beer (considerately), say so. (The Guest, in a spirit of propitiation, prefers beer.) Well, we could have managed a bottle of Pommery between us, and it's never so good to my mind in the pints—but please yourself, of course.
[The Guest feels that his moderation has missed fire, but dares not retract; they sit in silence for some time, without anything of importance happening, except that a strange Waiter swoops down and carries away their bread-basket.
A Meek Man (at an adjoining table, who, probably for family reasons, is entertaining his Sister-in-law, a lady with an aquiline nose and remarkably thick eyebrows.) You know, HORATIA, I call this sort of thing very jolly, having dinner like this in the fresh air, eh? [He rubs his hands under the table.
Horatia (acidly). It may be so, AUGUSTUS, when we do have it. At present we have been sitting here fifteen minutes, and had nothing but fresh air and small flies, and, as I don't pretend to be a Chameleon myself, why— [She fans herself vigorously.
Augustus. Well, you know, my dear, we were warned that the trout en papillotes might take some little time. I suppose (with mild Jocularity)—it's a fashionable fish—wants to come in with a "little head sunning over with curls," as the poet says.
Horatia. Please don't make jokes of that sort—unless you wish to destroy the little appetite I have left!
Augustus (penitently). Never mind—I won't do it again. Here 's our Waiter at last. Now we're all right!
[The Waiter puts a dish down upon another table, and advances with the air of a family friend who brings bad tidings.
Horatia. Will you kindly let us have that trout at once?
The Waiter (bending down to AUGUSTUS with pity and sympathy). Fery sôry to dell you, esbecially after keebin you so long vaiting, bot (thinks how he can break it most gently) ve haf zo many beople hier to-day, and zey haf shust dold me in ze gitchen zere is no more drout. Zis hote vedder ze drout, he vill nod stay!
Augustus (mildly). No, of course not—well, let me see, now, what can you—?
The E.A. Here, you Kellner, come here, can't you? What the—
Waiter (to AUGUSTUS). Von minute. I gom back bresently. (To E.A.) You vant your pill, Sir, yes?
The E.A. (exploding). My bill! Confound it! I want something to eat first. When is that Bisque coming?
Waiter. Ach, peg your bardon, ve haf peen so pusy all day. Your Bisque vill pe retty diregly. I go to vetch him. [He goes.
Horatia. Now we're farther off from getting any food than ever! I suppose you mean to do something, AUGUSTUS?
Augustus. Of course—certainly. I shall speak very strongly. (Bleating.) Waiter!
Horatia (with scorn). Do you imagine they will pay the least attention to a noise like a sixpenny toy? Lot them see you insist upon being obeyed.
Augustus. I am—I mean, I will—I am very much annoyed. (Fiercely.) Wa-ai-ter!
A Stern Waiter (appearing suddenly.) You vant somsing, Sir?
Augustus (apologetically). Yes; we should—er—like something to eat—anything—so long as you can bring it at once, if you don't mind. "We—this Lady is rather in a hurry, and we've waited some little time already, you see.
The Waiter. Peg your bardon, zis is nod my daple. I send your Vaiter. [He vanishes.
The E.A. Scandalous! over twenty minutes we've been here! Ha! at last! (A Waiter appears with a tureen, which he uncovers.) Here, what do you call this?
Waiter. Groûte au Bot—you order him, yes? No? I dake him away!
[He whisks it away, to the chagrin of Guest, who thought it smelt nice.
The E.A. I ordered Bisque—where is it? and I want some wine, too—a pint of Pommery '84, and a small lager. If they're not here very soon, I'll—
The Guest (trying to make the best of things). Nothing for it but patience, I suppose.
The E.A. (with intention). I had very little of that left before I sat down, I can tell you!
A Sarcastic and Solitary Diner. Waiter, could you spare me one moment of your valuable time? (The Waiter halts irresolutely.) It is so long since I had the pleasure of speaking to you, that you may possibly have forgotten that about three-quarters of an hour ago I ventured to express a preference for an Entrecôte aux pommes de terre with a half-bottle of Beaune. Could you give me any idea how much longer those rare dainties may take in preparing, and in the meantime enable me to support the pangs of starvation by procuring me the favour of a penny roll, if I am not trespassing too much upon your good-nature?
[The Waiter, in a state of extreme mystification and alarm, departs to inform the Manager.
The E.A.'s Waiter (reappearing with a small plated bowl, champagne bottle and glass of lager.) I regred fery moch to haf to dell you zat zere is only shust enough Bisque for von berson. [He bows with well-bred concern.
The E.A. Confound it all! (To Guest.) Here, you'd better take this, now it's here. Afraid of it, eh? Well, Bisque is apt to disagree with some people. (To Waiter.) Give it to me, and bring this gentleman some gravy soup, or whatever else you have ready. (He busies himself with his Bisque, while the Guest, in pure absence of mind, drinks the champagne with which the Waiter has filled his glass.) Here, what are you doing? I didn't order lager. (Perceives the mistake.) Oh, you've changed your mind, have you? (To Guest.) All right, of course, only it's a pity you couldn't say so at once. (To W.) Another pint of Pommery, and take this lager stuff away. (Exit W.; the unfortunate Guest, in attempting to pass the bottle, contrives to decant it into his host's soup.) Hullo, what the—there—(controlling himself). You might have left me the soup, at all events! Well—well—it's no use saying any more about it. I suppose I shall get something to eat some day.
[General tumult from several tables; appeals to the Waiters, who lose their heads and upbraid one another in their own tongue; HORATIA threatens bitterly to go in search of buns and lemonade at a Refreshment Bar. Sudden and timely appearance of energetic Manager; explanations, apologies, promises. Magic and instantaneous production of everybody's dinner. Appetite and anger appeased, as Scene closes in.
N.B.—Mr. Punch wishes it to be understood that the above sketch is not intended as a reflection upon any of the deservedly popular restaurants existing at present in either exhibition.
LEGAL AND MILITARY.—"Ancient Lights."—Retired Lancers.
