“It’s scandalous,” said Ethel, as soon as she could find words.
“It’s just right,” said I. “And it has given me a good idea. After dinner I will tell you about it.”
The banjoist had seen us first, and had told Minerva, and both had jumped to their feet, the man to bow and Minerva to run into the kitchen, where she was followed by her friend.
By the time we had come up to the front path to the veranda the coloured man had come out from the kitchen and in most melodious tones said,
“Minerva wanted to know if you would like dinner served on the piazza, the evening being so pleasant.”
Delmonico never had a head waiter with the aplomb, the native dignity, the utter unconsciousness of self that this superbly built man displayed.
I felt that we had suddenly fallen heir to a fortune, and a group of retainers, and trying to play my part to the best of my ability I said,
“By all means—er—”
“James.”
“By all means, James. Is it ready?”