SCENE--_Courtyard of the "Grand Hôtel du Lion Belgique et
d'Albion," at Brussels. It is just after Table d'hôte;
PODBURY and CULCHARD are sitting on a covered terrace, with
coffee._
_Podbury_ (_producing a pipe_). Not such a bad dinner! Expect they'll
rook us a lot for it, though. Rather fun, seeing the waiters all troop
in with a fresh course, when the proprietor rang his bell. Like a
ballet at the Empire--eh?
_Culchard_ (_selecting a cigarette_). I'm not in a position to say. I
don't affect those places of entertainment myself.
_Podb._ Oh! Where _do_ you turn in when you want to kick up your heels
a bit? Madame Tussaud's? I say, why on earth didn't you talk to that
old bloke next to you at dinner? He was trying all he knew to be
friendly.
_Culch._ Was he? I daresay. But I rather understood we came out with
the idea of keeping out of all that.
_Podb._ Of course. _I'm_ not keen about getting to know people. He had
no end of a pretty daughter, though. Mean to say you didn't spot her?
[Illustration: "Wanted to know if you were my Tutor!"]
_Culch._ If by "spotting" you mean--was I aware of the existence of a
very exuberant young person, with a most distressing American accent?
I can only say; that she made her presence sufficiently evident. I
confess she did not interest me to the point of speculating upon her
relationship to anybody else.
_Podb._ Well--if you come to that, I don't know that I--still, she was
uncommonly--(_Happens to glance round, and lowers his voice._) Jove!
she's in the Reading-room, just behind us. (_Hums, with elaborate
carelessness._) La di deedle-lumpty--loodle-oodle-loo--
_Culch._ (_who detests humming_). By the way, I wish you hadn't been
in such a hurry to come straight on. I particularly wanted to stop at
Bruges, and see the Memlings.
_Podb._ I do like that! For a fellow who wants to keep out of people's
way! They'd have wanted you to stay to lunch and dinner, most likely.
_Culch._ (_raising his eyebrows_). Hardly, my dear fellow--they're
pictures, as it happens.
_Podb._ (_unabashed_). Oh, are they? Any way, you've fetched up your
average here. Weren't there enough in the Museum for you?
_Culch._ (_pityingly_). You surely wouldn't call the collection here
exactly representative of the best period of Flemish Art?
_Podb._ If you ask me, I should call it a simply footling show--but
you were long enough over it. (CULCHARD _shudders slightly, and
presently pats his pockets_.) What's up now? Nothing gone wrong with
the works, eh?
_Culch._ (_with dignity_). No--I was merely feeling for my note-book.
I had a sudden idea for a sonnet, that's all.
_Podb._ Ah, you shouldn't have touched those mussels they gave us with
the sole. Have a nip of this cognac, and you'll soon be all right.
[_CULCHARD scribbles in lofty abstraction; PODBURY hums;
Mr. CYRUS K. TROTTER, and his daughter, MAUD S. TROTTER,
come out by the glass door of the Salon de Lecture, and seat
themselves at an adjoining table_.
_Miss Trotter_. Well, I guess it's gayer out here, anyway. That
Reading Saloon is just about as lively as a burying lot with all the
tombs unlet. I want the address of that man who said that Brussels was
a second Parrus.
_Mr. Trotter_. Maybe we ain't been long enough off the cars to
jedge yet. Do you feel like putting on your hat and sack, and sorter
smellin' round this capital?
_Miss T._ Not any. I expect the old city will have to curb its
impatience to see me till to-morrow. I'm tired some.
_Culch._ (_to himself_). Confound it, how can I--! (_Looks up, and
observes_ Miss T. _with a sudden attention_). That fellow PODBURY
has better taste than I gave him credit for. She _is_ pretty--in her
peculiar style--_quite_ pretty! Pity she speaks with that deplorable
accent.
[_Writes--"Vermilion lips that sheathe a parrot tongue," and
runs over all the possible rhymes to "tongue."_
_Podb._ (_observing that his pencil is idle_). Gas cut off again? Come
for a toddle. You don't mean to stick here all the evening, eh?
_Culch._ Well, we might take a turn later on, and see the effect of
St. Gudule in the moonlight.
_Podb._ Something _like_ a rollick that! But what do you say to
dropping in quietly at the Eden for an hour or so, eh? Variety show
and all that going on.
_Culch._ Thanks--variety shows are not much in my line; but don't mind
me if you want to go.
[_PODBURY wanders off, leaving CULCHARD free to observe
Miss TROTTER._
_Miss T._ CHARLEY writes he's having a lovely time in Germany going
round. I guess he isn't feeling so cheap as he did. I wish he'd come
along right here.
_Mr. T._ I presume he's put in all the time he had for Belgium--likely
we'll fetch up against him somewhere before he's through.
_Miss T._ Well, and I don't care how soon we do, either. CHARLEY's
a bright man, and real cultivated. I'm always telling him that he's
purrfectly splendid company, considering he's only a cousin.
_Mr. T._ That's so every time. I like CHARLEY VAN BOODELER first-rate
myself.
_Culch._ (_to himself_). If CHARLEY VAN BOODELER was _engaged_ to
her, I suppose he'd be here. Pshaw! What _does_ it matter? Somehow, I
rather wish now that I'd--but perhaps we shall get into conversation
presently. Hang it, here's that fellow PODBURY back again! Wish to
goodness he'd-- (_To PODBURY._) Hallo, so you haven't started yet?
_Podb._ Been having a talk with the porter. He says there's a big fair
over by the Station du Midi, and it's worth seeing. Are you game to
come along and sample it, eh?
_Culch._ (with an easy indifference intended for_ Miss T.'s _benefit_).
No, I think not, thanks. I'm very comfortable where I am.
[_He resumes his writing._
_Podb._ Well, it's poor fun having to go alone!
[_He is just going, when Mr. TROTTER rises and comes towards
him._
_Mr. T._ You'll excuse me, Sir, but did I overhear you remark that
there was a festivity in progress in this city?
_Podb._ So I'm told; a fair, down in the new part. I could tell you
how to get to it, if you thought of going.
_Mr. T._ Well, I don't see how I should ever strike that fair for
myself, and I guess if there's anything to be seen we're bound to
_see_ it, so me and my darter--allow me to introduce my darter to
you--MAUD, this gentleman is Mr.--I don't think I've caught your name,
Sir--PODBURY?--Mr. PODBURY who's kindly volunteered to conduct us
round.
_Miss T._ _I_ should have thought you'd want to leave the gentleman
some say in the matter, Father--not to mention me!
_Podb._ (_eagerly_). But won't you come? Do. I shall be awfully glad
if you will!
_Miss T._ If it makes you so glad as all that, I believe I'll come.
Though what you could say different, after Father had put it up so
steep on you, _I_ don't know. I'll just go and fix myself first.
[_She goes._
_Mr. T._ (_to PODBURY_). My only darter, Sir, and a real good girl. We
come over from the States, crossed a month ago to-day, and seen a
heap already. Been runnin' all over Scotland and England, and kind of
looked round Ireland and Wales, and now what _we've_ got to do is to
see as much as we can of Germany and Switzerland and It'ly, and get
some idea of France before we start home this fall. I guess we're
both of us gettin' pretty considerable homesick already. My darter was
sayin' to me on'y this evening at _table d'hôte_, "Father," she sez,
"the vurry first thing we'll do when we get home is to go and hev a
good square meal of creamed oysters and clams with buckwheat cakes
and maple syrup." Don't seem as if we _could_ git along without maple
syrup _much_ longer. (_Miss TROTTER returns._) You never mean going
out without your gums?
_Miss T._ I guess it's not damp here--any--(_To PODBURY._) Now you're
going to be _Mary_, and Father and I have got to be the little lambs
and follow you around.
[_They go out, leaving CULCHARD annoyed with himself and
everybody else, and utterly unable to settle down, to his
sonnet again._