The dinner began in silence, broken only by the host’s attempts at conversation, which fell without much response; for Dolloway was stubbornly speechless, and the young Beckwiths were too much impressed by the strangeness of their surroundings to have leisure for words. Even restaurant service, to which most young city folk become early accustomed, was unknown to them, for their simple meals had always been taken at home; and the deft movements of the waiter, perplexity as to the use of the various utensils with which he provided them, and a close observation of Mr. Brook and his manner of using the big or little forks and spoons, occupied them to the exclusion of almost everything else, even food.
“Try a few of those oysters. They are delicious, my dear, they are indeed,” urged the entertainer, pushing the plate of half-shells gently toward Bonny’s place.
Then she rallied herself. “I must not seem ungrateful, and the food does smell so good! Only there is so much of it! One of these ‘courses,’ I suppose they are, would make enough for once at home. I wish Motherkin had some oysters like these! And she shall. I will buy some on my way back.” Then she turned to her host, and exerted herself to be as entertaining as Bonny Beckwith certainly could be if she willed, and before he knew it even Mr. Dolloway was laughing.
In that laugh the hatchet was buried; or rather the last ill-temper which Robert had retained vanished, and he turned merrily toward his enemy with the words: “My eye! This turkey is an awful good one, ain’t it? I wish I could have you tell me what to order, every day!”
“When I was a boy I liked turkey,” answered Dolloway, graciously.
“Tell me ‘when you was a boy,’ please. If you will I won’t be sassy no more, an’ I won’t beat you no more.”
“Some time. Not now. I did tell you all I knew, ’most.”
“He says you have horses of your own, Mr. Brook!” said “Humpty-Dumpty,” suddenly remembering this communication and wishing to have it verified.
“Yes, I have a number; seven in the stables now, I think. But all are not mine; one pair is my sister’s. Some day I hope you will come and see them.”
“Ginger! Do you? Honest Injun?”