“He has not got it; why, the man is as natural and as straight and capable as a man can be,” says one to another.
“And a real good fellow,” is the response. “Ask him about Vanderbilt and the mirror.”
“O Mr. Irving!—just one more question.”
“As many as you like, my friend,” is the ready reply.
“Is it true that you are to be the guest of Mr. Vanderbilt?”
“And be surrounded with ingeniously constructed mirrors, where I can see myself always, and all at once? I have heard strange stories about Mr. Vanderbilt having had a wonderful mirror of this kind constructed for my use, so that I may pose before it in all my loveliest attitudes. Something of the kind has been said, eh?” he asks, laughing.
“Oh, yes, that is so,” is the mirthful response.
“Then you may contradict it, if you will. You may say that I am here for work; that I shall have no time to be any one’s guest, though I hope the day may come when I shall have leisure to visit my friends. You may add, if you will” (here he lowered his voice with a little air of mystery), “that I always carry a mirror of my own about with me wherever I go, because I love to pose and contemplate my lovely figure whenever the opportunity offers.”
“That will do, I guess,” says a gentleman of the interviewing staff; “thank you, Mr. Irving, for your courtesy and information.”
“I am obliged to you very much,” he says, and then, having his attention directed to the first view of New York, expresses his wonder and delight at the scene, as well he may.