“Good evening,” he said, and I gave him the time of day. He bustled to a little writing table nearby and sat down to write, calling for a pen, paper, his slippers—I was rather puzzled by that demand—and various other things. On sight this gentleman (I suppose the English would abuse me for that word) looked anything but satisfactory. I suspected he was Scotch and that he was cheap minded and narrow. Later something about his manner and the healthy, brisk way in which, when his slippers came, he took off his shoes and put them on—quite cheerful and homelike—soothed me.
“He isn’t so bad,” I thought. “He’s probably a traveling salesman—the English type. I’d better be genial, I may learn something.”
Soon the waiter returned (arrayed by this time, remarkable to relate, in a dress suit the size of which was a piece of pure comedy in itself), and brought the stranger toast and chops and tea. The latter drew up to the other end of the table from me with quite an air of appetite and satisfaction.
“They don’t usually put us fellows in with you,” he observed, stating something the meaning of which I did not grasp for the moment. “Us traveling men usually have a separate dining- and writing-room. Our place seems to be shut up here to-night for some reason. I wouldn’t have called for my slippers here if they had the other room open.”
“Oh, that’s quite all right,” I replied, gathering some odd class distinction. “I prefer company to silence. You say you travel?”
“Yes, I’m connected with a house in London. I travel in the south of England.”
“Tell me,” I said, “is this a typical English town from the point of view of life and business, or is it the only one of its kind? It’s rather curious to me.”
“It’s one of the poorest I know, certainly the poorest I stop at. There is no life to speak of here at all. If you want to see a typical English town where there’s more life and business you want to see Canterbury or Maidenhead. No, no, you mustn’t judge England by this. I suppose you’re traveling to see things. You’re not English, I see.”
“No, I’m from America. I come from New York.”
“I had a strong notion before I came to London to go to America after I left school”—and to have heard him pronounce school alone would have settled his identity for those who know the Scotch. “Some of my friends went there, but I decided not. I thought I’d try London instead and I’m glad I did.”