"Oh no, and maybe not a single one has ever noticed what I have, but I must say there are a few things that sometimes I wish you wouldn't do. Oh, I'm going to tell you and be done with it, because if I don't some young lady may and that would hurt worse. John, I don't like the way you act at the table sometimes. I hope you won't get mad, but I don't."
"Well, what's wrong?" John asked, a look of shame crossing his face as he stood mechanically brushing his coat-sleeve with his big, splaying hand.
"There are several little things," Cavanaugh went on, lamely. "For instance, there is always a big spoon on the bean-dish or the cabbage-plate, and we are expected to use it when we are asked to help ourselves, but I've seen you take your knife, fork, or teaspoon and rake it out exactly as if you was scraping mortar from a board."
"Oh, I see, I see." John smiled in a sheepish sort of way. "So that is wrong, eh?"
"Yes, and then you stick your knife in your mouth loaded to the brink with stuff, and I've seen you use your fingers, John. I've seen you pick up a chunk of meat with your fingers and ram it in like you was plugging a hole in a sinking boat. You begin eating before the rest do, too, and that don't look nice, I must say. You are all right—all right, but it is just a few little things like those that you ought to watch out for and try to avoid. These are plain-living folks, but still they seem to have pretty good manners—that is, except the old man. He does a lot o' things that he ought not to do. He drinks coffee out of a saucer, and, although I saw him rubbing the back of a cat just before we sat down yesterday, he broke off a piece of bread with his hands and handed it to me that way, and not on a fork or a plate, as would be proper. If the women hadn't been there and akin to him, I'd have throwed it down."
John had turned to the bureau for a handkerchief. He was angry, but more at himself than his gentle companion.
"It is all poppycock," he said, suddenly. "I'm astonished, Sam, to hear you say such fool things—you, a man of your age and trade. I thought you was a plain, sensible man. Why, you are trying to be a dude."
Nevertheless, as the old man sat silent, John made up his mind that the advice was worth heeding and he forced a smile.
"All right, Sam," he said; "I'll remember next time. I'm new at this game."
"I thought you'd take it sensible," Cavanaugh said, in relief. "Now there is another little thing. It seems to me that, as you are going to escort Tilly there, you oughtn't to be behind time. You know you always had a bad memory, and it wouldn't look exactly right for you to keep her sitting somewhere waiting on you. A man ought to be first on deck in a jaunt like this."