"There is little to be said against it," he confessed. "The only trouble is that it fails to arrive."
Kendricks summoned a waiter, a task of no inconsiderable difficulty, for the service was automatic—the dishes were set upon the table and the waiter disappeared for the next lot. Anything intervening was almost impossible. Monsieur, Kendricks declared, pointing indignantly across the table, had not been served with chicken! The waiter shook his head. It was unheard of! Monsieur had probably had his chicken and forgotten it. The chicken had been brought, two portions. There was no doubt about it. But where then had the chicken been hidden? Kendricks became fluent. He looked under the table. He pointed to his friend's empty plate. The waiter, only half convinced, departed with a vague promise. Kendricks sipped his wine.
"It is a regrettable incident," he declared, "but in the excitement of conversation, Julien, I ate both portions of chicken."
He had lapsed into French, the language in which he had argued with the waiter. Madame was overcome with the humor of the affair. Mademoiselle tittered as she leaned across and told her fiancé. The unattached mademoiselle looked her sympathy with Julien. Monsieur saw the joke and laughed heartily. They looked reproachfully at Kendricks. To them it was indeed a tragedy!
"Madame," Kendricks explained, "it is not my custom to be so greedy. The waiter set both portions before me, meaning, without doubt, that I should pass one to my friend. Alas! in the pleasure of conversation in these delightful surroundings,"—he bowed low to mademoiselle—"something, I don't know what it was, carried me away, and I ate and ate until both portions were vanished. Ah!" he exclaimed. "Triumph! The waiter returns. He brings chicken, too, for my friend. Garçon, you have done well. You shall be rewarded. It is excellent."
The waiter, still with a protesting air, passed up the chicken. The little party was convulsed with merriment. They all watched Julien eat his tardy course. Kendricks, with an air of recklessness, sipped more wine.
"I flatter myself," he said, "that before very long I shall have taught you to forget that you were ever a Cabinet Minister, that you were ever at Eton, that you were ever at Oxford. One does not live in those places, you know, Julien. One shrivels instead of expands…. My friend, we have dined."
"Is there nothing more?" Julien asked.
"There is fruit," Kendricks admitted. "It was in my mind to spare you the fruit. I see it to right and left of us being handed around—nuts, a banana, apples whose exterior I trust is misleading. Never mind, you have desired fruit and you shall have it. Waiter, monsieur desires his fruit."
The waiter disappeared and in a moment or two Julien was served.