She coolly surveyed my decorations and such of the furnishings as were in place before addressing me.
“I wish to engage one of your best tables,” she began, “for your opening night—the tenth, isn’t it?—this large one in the corner will do nicely. There will be eight of us. Your place really won’t be half bad, if your food is at all possible.”
The creature spoke with a sublime effrontery, quite as if she had not helped a few weeks before to ridicule all that was best in Red Gap society, yet there was that about her which prevented me from rebuking her even by the faintest shade in my manner. More than this, I suddenly saw that the Bohemian set would be a factor in my trade which I could not afford to ignore. While I affected to consider her request she tapped the toe of a small boot with a correctly rolled umbrella, lifting her chin rather attractively meanwhile to survey my freshly done ceiling. I may say here that the effect of her was most compelling, and I could well understand the bitterness with which the ladies of the Onwards and Upwards Society had gossiped her to rags. Incidently, this was the first correctly rolled umbrella, saving my own, that I had seen in North America.
“I shall be pleased,” I said, “to reserve this table for you—eight places, I believe you said?”
She left me as a duchess might have. She was that sort. I felt almost quite unequal to her. And the die was cast. I faced each of the three ladies who had previously approached me with the declaration that I was a licensed victualler, bound to serve all who might apply. That while I was keenly sensitive to the social aspects of my business, it was yet a business, and I must, therefore, be in supreme control. In justice to myself I could not exclusively entertain any faction of the North Side set, nor even the set in its entirety. In each instance, I added that I could not debar from my tables even such members of the Bohemian set as conducted themselves in a seemly manner. It was a difficult situation, calling out all my tact, yet I faced it with a firmness which was later to react to my advantage in ways I did not yet dream of.
So engrossed for a month had I been with furnishers, decorators, char persons, and others that the time of the Honourable George’s arrival drew on quite before I realized it. A brief and still snarky note had apprised me of his intention to come out to North America, whereupon I had all but forgotten him, until a telegram from Chicago or one of those places had warned me of his imminence. This I displayed to Cousin Egbert, who, much pleased with himself, declared that the Honourable George should be taken to the Floud home directly upon his arrival.
“I meant to rope him in there on the start,” he confided to me, “but I let on I wasn’t decided yet, just to keep ‘em stirred up. Mrs. Effie she butters me up with soft words every day of my life, and that Jackson lad has offered me about ten thousand of them vegetable cigarettes, but I’ll have to throw him down. He’s the human flivver. Put him in a car of dressed beef and he’d freeze it between here and Spokane. Yes, sir; you could cut his ear off and it wouldn’t bleed. I ain’t going to run the Judge against no such proposition like that.” Of course the poor chap was speaking his own backwoods metaphor, as I am quite sure he would have been incapable of mutilating Belknap-Jackson, or even of imprisoning him in a goods van of beef. I mean to say, it was merely his way of speaking and was not to be taken at all literally.
As a result of his ensuing call upon the pressman, the sheet of the following morning contained word of the Honourable George’s coming, the facts being not garbled more than was usual with this chap.
RED GAP’S NOTABLE GUEST
En route for our thriving metropolis is a personage no
less distinguished than the Honourable George Augustus
Vane-Basingwell, only brother and next in line of
succession to his lordship the Earl of Brinstead, the
well-known British peer of London, England. Our noble
visitor will be the house guest of Senator and Mrs.
J. K. Floud, at their palatial residence on Ophir Avenue,
where he will be extensively entertained, particularly by
our esteemed fellow-townsman, Egbert G. Floud, with whom
he recently hobnobbed during the latter’s stay in Paris,
France. His advent will doubtless prelude a season of
unparalleled gayety, particularly as Mr. Egbert Floud
assures us that the “Judge,” as he affectionately calls
him, is “sure some mixer.” If this be true, the gentleman
has selected a community where his talent will find ample
scope, and we bespeak for his lordship a hearty welcome.