Our own corner of the room was so engaging that we did not notice the newcomers who were finding seats at other tables. But suddenly, above the general chatter, there arose the sound of a strident voice that there was no possibility of mistaking. Virginia and I gasped simultaneously; and there, a short distance away from us (though, fortunately with its back towards us), we beheld the fluffy hat (rightside front this time), above a screw of hair, and the long tussore coat of recent blessed memories! The Literary Lady had a friend with her, but obviously the friend didn’t count for much, she hadn’t a chance; at most she only squeezed in a word when the other made a semi-pause for breath. We sat spell-bound, and this is what we heard:
“Now, dear, what are you going to have? They have soup, roast beef, roast lamb and mint sauce, roast mutton” (and so on, she declaimed the menu to the bitter end, while a long-suffering waitress stood first on one tired foot and then on the other). “Oh, but you must have something more than a bun. . . . Nonsense, that was hours ago; I had mine late, too, but I’m quite ready for lunch. . . . On strict diet, are you? That doesn’t count. Specialists always say that sort of thing; that’s what you pay the money for; but it doesn’t follow that you do what they say. Why, you’d starve to death if you did, and then you’d have to go to them again and pay another fee—though I dare say that’s their idea. . . . You would like a little roast lamb? Well, I might manage a little, too, if it is very hot; but I expect they’ve only got it about lukewarm. If the roast lamb isn’t quite . . . what? It’s cold? All the joints are cold? The waitress says it’s cold, dear! Isn’t it simply ridiculous in a place like London never to be able to get a hot lunch! . . . What? The grill is hot? But, my good girl, I don’t want any grill. . . . And the soup and fish? I don’t want either soup or fish. . . . No, and I don’t want hot steak-and-kidney pie. I wanted hot roast lamb. Still, if you haven’t it, I suppose it isn’t your fault. All the same, it does seem as if you are—— . . . . Sausages, did you say? They would be rather nice. Now are they hot or cold, which? . . . Smoked?? Only smoked sausages?? Did you ever know such a place! . . . What do you say to oysters? . . . You thought I only took fruit? I tried that for a little while; my last doctor but one was very keen on it; but if you believe me, I was losing pounds a week! I should have been a perfect skeleton by now if I’d gone on. So I went to another man, and he insisted—absolutely insisted that I must take food containing a larger percentage of proteids. And I wasn’t sorry; I never had any faith in that fruit idea, only I met that doctor when I was at the Hydro, and he begged me to try it. A most charming man, and he took the greatest interest in my writings; but someone told me only last week that he has a wife who is a positive—— . . . . Salmon? Is there salmon? I didn’t notice it. That wouldn’t be bad, would it? and the very best thing you could have as you’re dieting; so digestible, I always find. Now where’s that girl gone? I declare they slip away the minute your back’s turned, and they don’t give you a moment to look at the menu. Is that our waitress over there? I think it is; she has on an apron just like the girl who was here. . . . That’s true, now you mention it; their aprons are all alike. Still, I think that was the one, and she’s gone over there on purpose to be out of reach. But I’ll go to her.”
Here Virginia and I narrowly escaped detection, for the Literary Lady strode across the room, knocking down other people’s umbrellas in passing, brushing one lady’s velvet stole from the back of a chair, and kicking over a tray that had been put down in, apparently, the most out-of-the-way spot in the room. Clutching the arm of the waitress who belonged to our table and had no dealings with the other end of the room, she demanded immediate service. Instinctively Virginia and I bent our heads forward as low as possible over our plates, and fortunately the wide brims of our hats helped to conceal our features. But we only breathed freely when she returned to her seat to report to her friend—
“That waitress says the other girl will be back in a minute; but I doubt it. There; now she’s gone off too! Ah, here’s ours—at last! Now, dear, you said sausage, didn’t you? Or did we decide on oysters? . . . You’re right; it was salmon. I always think that salmon—— . . . . What did you say? . . . Why, of course we want bread! We couldn’t eat it without, could we? . . . Oh, I see, you mean bread or roll? She says will you have bread or roll, dear? . . . Yes, rolls would be nice, but—— Waitress! Not crusty ones! . . . Well, perhaps bread would be softer for you under the circumstances. Stale bread, waitress! Those rolls are usually as hard as—— . . . . Yes, perhaps we had better decide on what we will have to drink. I’m going to have lime-juice. You’d better have some too. It goes so well with salmon. . . . Of course they have coffee, if you really prefer it; but I do think that lime-juice—— Well, if that girl hasn’t gone off again! They do nothing but run about from pillar to post. Oh, she is bringing the other things! That isn’t brown bread, waitress! I said brown bread surely? I must have said brown bread, because I positively cannot touch anything else. Don’t you remember I called you back and said, ‘Brown bread, waitress?’ Well, if you can change it, that’s all right. Wait a minute, though; after all, I think I’ll have white. . . . Yes, you can leave it; but all the same, I can’t think why people never listen to what one says.”
Here half the room broke out into an unconcealed smile; i.e., the half that had found it impossible to raise their voices above hers, and so had finally given it up as hopeless, and now devoted themselves to listening. But all oblivious of everything but herself, she continued—
“I don’t like the look of that salmon. I feel sure it’s been frozen. Is that the best you have? It looks to me like New Zealand or Canterbury salmon! Really, everything seems to be made in Germany nowadays, doesn’t it? And no mayonnaise. . . ? It’s in the cruet? I never care for that bottled stuff. . . . Oh, yes, leave it; but I wish now that we had had oysters. . . . It’s no use offering to change it; we’ve done nothing else so far but have wrong things brought us to have changed—or at least it would have been changed if I hadn’t consented to put up with the white bread. But you can bring us some lime-juice. Now don’t forget this time and bring ginger-beer. . . . Yes, lime-juice for two. . . . But I thought you agreed to lime-juice just now? . . . Oh, have what you like by all means; I don’t mind what it is; I only advised lime-juice because coffee is so very bad for anyone on diet, and you can’t be too careful; still, please yourself, only do let us decide on something, or she’ll be off again. . . . That’s it, one coffee and one lime-juice. . . . Yes, with plenty of milk. . . . Now, I wonder if that scatter-brained girl will go and put the milk in the lime-juice?
“You were surprised to hear I was back in town? I returned last week. I absolutely couldn’t have existed on that benighted hill-top another hour. . . . I knew the moment I set eyes on it that it wasn’t sufficiently cooked. No one could be expected to eat it. She must get us something else. Waitress! This salmon isn’t half-done. It’s as soft as. . . . Oh, I see; yours is hard? Well, at any rate, it isn’t what it ought to be. Mine is quite spongy, and this lady’s is as hard as . . . the skin, is it? . . . this lady’s skin is just like leather. . . . I suppose it had better be oysters. . . . Now I wonder how much longer she’ll keep us waiting? But as I was saying, they were the dullest, most bucolic set of people I ever came across; not a thought above their fowls and cabbages. I tried to discuss Art and Literature with them—simple things, not too far above their heads, you know, just to draw them out; but they merely gazed at me in utter blankness. . . . Yes, she has a cottage there; I’d forgotten I mentioned it in my letter. . . . Oh, yes, I met her; in fact she persuaded me to address a drawing-room meeting at her house; she got it up on purpose, hearing I was in the district. I could ill afford to spare the time from my book; but she wrote and made such a point of it, that I could hardly refuse without seeming rude. She invited a number of the local people to meet me; but a more stupid, unimpressionable collection of—— . . . what is she like? Most ordinary. As you know, I’m endowed with unusual intuition, and can gauge people and sum them up in a moment, and I must say I found her a very uninteresting person—not to say exceedingly heavy.”
“Which only proves,” said Virginia when we got outside, “that even the worst of us may profit by hearing the truth spoken in love!”