MRS. WINDEMERE'S DINNER.
"Well, it is almost time for the Lamb dinner," remarked Mr. Lawrence,
late that afternoon, to the group about him under the awning of the
after-deck, from which they were watching the sunset, some lounging in
the easy steamer-chairs, others in the hammocks which had been
stretched in every available space, and still others, among whom was
Dwight, resting full length on the large Persian rug, which had been
laid in the center of the deck planks. For the heat, and still, easy
motion made every one lazy.
Upon hearing this remark the boy looked up.
"Lamb dinner? I thought it was pig this morning. It hasn't changed
into sheep, I hope?"
"And must I really explain my observation to a lad about entering the
High School?" cried his uncle reproachfully. "I'll warrant Bess
knows--and somebody else, too!" catching the gleam in Hope's eye.
"Oh, yes, I understand, in a way," returned Bess. "Let's see, Charles
Lamb, the writer, was very fond of roast pig, wasn't he?"
"Was he, Miss Hope?"
"Yes, sir, and wrote an essay upon it which has become a classic."
"Oh, of course! I'd almost forgotten that," put in Bess, hastily.
"And I'm free to confess I never knew it," added her brother. "Fact
is, I begin to think I didn't learn much in school, anyhow--that is,
much that I've needed since. I've picked up more about geography and
history on this trip than all I ever learned there."
"No, no, not quite that, my boy! You simply have digested what then
you only swallowed. Don't you know what Channing says--'It is not
enough to cram ourselves with a great load of collections--we must chew
them over again'? The fact is, nothing can ever be quite learned until
it is experienced. I may be taught from a book that water expands in
freezing, but I cannot realize that fact till I, sometime, leave water
in a pitcher and find it broken next morning. Then I know, in a way
never to be forgotten, about this scientific truth. So it is in
geography; we have always taken in certain facts regarding the relative
positions of land and water, mountain and plain, but if we had
attempted to go anywhere, with absolutely no guide but memory, nine out
of ten of us would be lost on the first stage of the journey. You are
now simply assimilating what you learned at school, and making the
facts, which you took on trust then, part and parcel of your actual
experience now. It seems to me one of the best ways to study geography
at home is to travel on paper. That comes nearest the real thing. Map
out a route, buy your tickets (in imagination), take your conveyance,
and on the way see everything possible to be gleaned from those eyes
which have gone before, and left a record of their impressions. Try
and think if you would see in the same way, and what else might be
observed by quick eyes, natural to occur in that part of the globe. If
one has imagination he may almost believe, in time, that he has really
visited the places so studied.
"I knew a young fellow, once, who lived in an insignificant town in
Vermont, and had never been fifty miles from home, yet who kept up such
journeys for years, and many a time, in talking with him, I, the real
traveler, would learn facts about certain localities where I had been,
from him who never set foot near them. Just to prove him, once, I
said, 'Are you acquainted with Salt Lake City?' 'Pretty well,' he
answered modestly. Having spent a summer or two there, myself, I
thought I would try and trip him up, so said, carelessly, 'When I stood
in front of Brigham Young's Square and looked at that great town on my
left'--but there he interrupted me, quick as a flash, 'You mean looked
down upon the town at your right, don't you? Brigham's Square is on
what is called the North Bench, and standing before it you must
overlook the larger part of the city lying upon your right.' Of course
this was correct, and I had to acknowledge that he really knew as much
about many localities as I, who had visited them. But he was unusual."
"Well," said Dwight slowly, "what I have to complain of about travelers
is that they don't tell the little things--the details, you know. I
suppose it seems silly to them to say whether they went on board a
steamer in a boat, or across a gangway, or up a flight of steps, or to
describe just how a car looks when they travel by rail, but I used to
wish they would. And when I write my book of travels I'm going to!"
"I would," said his sister encouragingly.
"Well, you wait! But say, uncle, there are some books in your library
at home that you used to have when you were a boy, I reckon, for the
pictures look about a century old, but I used to like to read them ever
so much, and since I came abroad I've been finding out how well they
describe the things that happen to a traveler even to-day. For
instance, when you and I went from Cadiz to Ronda by diligence."
"Oh, you mean the Rollo books--Rollo's Tour in Europe?" laughed Mr.
Lawrence. "How I did pore over those when I was a little boy! Yes,
they do go into details, that's a fact. Somebody's advice to Rollo
always to follow the crowd when bewildered at some great railway
terminus often occurs to me, still, and is acted upon with perfect
success."
"But don't you think travelers who write for publication sometimes draw
the long bow a bit?" asked Lieutenant Carnegie in his diffident way.
"Oh, never!" cried a voice from the guardrail, and the Traveler held up
a beseeching hand as he came forward. "Don't take away our reputation
for veracity, I pray you! With the public's confidence lost to us what
could we do? We are all truthful--even to Du Chaillu and Gulliver."
Every one laughed, and the young man, blushing a little, returned,
"Well, I was thinking especially of one or two I've read, lately. For
instance, thirty miles a day is quite a tramp for an ordinary man on
good level roads, without luggage; and when a traveler tells me he
makes sixty over hills, or marshes, weighted down with camp supplies,
who wasn't brought up a soldier, either, why, I just begin to compare
it with my own experiences and say--"
"Here _lies_ a great man, don't you?" put in Dwight.
"Well, yes, that's about it."
"Oh, but you must remember that often he can only judge of the distance
made by his feelings," laughed the Traveler. "It seems sixty miles,
anyhow."
"I don't doubt that," cried Carnegie, showing handsome teeth in a
smile. "I thought there must be some way of getting around it. But if
he had said thirty-five miles I'd have believed him, and thought him a
mighty good tramper into the bargain."
"Yet many who have never tramped under knapsack, blankets, and
tent-cloth would say, 'That's nothing!' and our poor voyager, who
really had made a record, would be consigned to oblivion. In all art,
even that of writing facts, one must exaggerate a little in order to
make the effect life-size--so to say."
"That's true enough," said Mrs. Vanderhoff. "It is so easy to sit
still and pass judgment upon those who exert themselves. When I hear a
person criticising a painting, a story, a building, a song who could
not draw a straight line, write a sentence correctly, build a cob-house
on just proportions, nor keep the key through 'Yankee Doodle,' I long
to insist upon his making a practical trial in such things before
daring to make a criticism. Yet it is a fact that artistic people of
every grade and type have to writhe under the criticisms of
ignoramuses, who could not accomplish the piece of work they scathingly
denounce if their lives depended upon it. I pick up a book and fling
it aside with the comment, 'It's not worth reading!' or I look over a
great vessel like this and say, 'How clumsily built!' but what if I
were doomed to write a similar book, to plan a great steamer--just
think of the results! I would never criticise again."
"It would be a pretty good scheme," laughed Mr. Lawrence. "Make these
bilious critics prove their right to the title by doing the work. I
could really enjoy their agonies on occasion."
"But would you have no criticisms, then?" asked Mrs. Campbell. "Would
not that mean stagnation in effort? There must be something to spur
one on to better work, mustn't there?"
"I doubt if unintelligent criticism often does prove an incentive,"
said the Traveler. "'Let me be judged by my peers' is a universal
sentiment with the conscientious in any employment."
"Yes, Rachel," put in Mr. Lawrence, smiling at his sister, "if Captain
Hosmer should criticise the ship we would build we might endure it, but
if--well, Mr. Donelson, for instance, ventured to elevate his nose we
would naturally think he knew nothing about it, and would not even try
to please him."
"How _could_ he elevate his nose?" asked Mrs. Campbell innocently, in a
whisper that sent the Windemere girls off into giggles, for Mr.
Donelson's nose was not only long but slightly hooked, besides.
Evidently Mrs. Campbell had not quite forgiven the attaché for his
desertion of the morning.
"But if I'm not mistaken we're all competent to judge of a good dinner,
if we couldn't cook one," laughed the young man in return, not having
caught her comment, and he pointed to Tegeloo who, smiling and
important, was bowing before Mrs. Windemere.
"Dinner is served to madam!" he announced with a flourish and an odd
accent, while, at the same instant, Captain Hosmer gallantly offered
his arm.
"May I have the pleasure? Our dinner is waiting, I believe, Mrs.
Windemere," and amid much merriment and excitement, the other gentlemen
quickly sought partners and followed.
By a previous understanding with Mr. Malcolm, Mrs. Windemere and party
were offered the places of the four young people at the captain's
table, and they "went down a peg," as Dwight put it, to another,
entirely filled with the younger portion of the guests. If there was a
little more learning and elegance, perhaps, at the former, there was a
vast amount of fun and nonsense at the latter. Every one in the saloon
was supplied with at least one thin slice from the prize pig which,
roasted whole and holding an ear of corn in its teeth, was gaily
decorated with the flags of England and the United States. It was held
high for inspection before the carving began, and many a joke ran
around, from table to table, upon the fine appearance of his porcine
majesty.
At some of the tables wine flowed freely, and a few of the young men
soon ordered it at the one where our girls were seated. It is more
commonly used at meals abroad than with middle-class Americans at home,
and nearly all partook. Neither Bess nor Dwight, however, would take
it and, seeing this, Faith and Hope, caring little about it, also
declined, though they had never been taught conscientious scruples
regarding its use. No special comment was made upon this, but when
Chester Carnegie also turned down his glass the young attachés began a
running fire of jests at his expense; Mr. Allyne especially, who soon
showed the influence of his champagne, leading off with some sharply
personal remarks.
The lieutenant said as little as possible in return, but occasionally a
witty reply would turn the laugh against his opponent, who grew
disagreeable and really quarrelsome, as the wine affected him more and
more.
Seeing this, Carnegie attempted to ignore the whole matter, and turning
to Faith, who sat next him, began talking in a lowered tone, hoping
Allyne would understand that he was now going too far and so drop the
subject.
But a man in liquor is an irresponsible being, and Allyne, under the
polish of education and training, possessed the nature of a bully--he
was tyrannical and contentious. Choosing now to assume that Carnegie's
partial turning away and low-voiced conversation were intended to
insult him, he straightened up, and looking fiercely across the table,
with eyes already watery from the heady fumes of the strong wine,
tapped sharply with his glass and said in too loud a tone for the
place, "Carnegie, I was talking to you."
The lieutenant turned his head a trifle, and bowed coolly.
"Excuse me till later, please; I am engaged with Miss Hosmer at
present."
The other laughed out in a disagreeable manner. While alone with Mrs.
Campbell, that afternoon, he had easily extracted the name of the young
man with whom one of the twins (neither knew which one) had been
promenading the deck, the evening before, and now, mingled with his
rising wrath towards him, was the confused memory of the woman's subtle
insinuations.
When sober, Mr. Allyne was usually a gentleman, but in his cups he
became little short of a ruffian in manner. He laughed significantly.
"Engaged with, or to?" he asked with insolence. "It had better be to
from reports, I should say!"
Instantly the lieutenant, pale as death, was on his feet, while Faith,
gasping a little, leaned back in her chair, as white and almost
fainting. Hope and Dwight, round-eyed and not half comprehending,
stared amazedly, while Donelson, realizing that his companion was quite
beside himself, also sprang up and laying a firm hand on Allyne's arm,
turned beseechingly.
"Don't, Carnegie--for heaven's sake don't make a scene! I'll get him
away. He'll be in the dust for this, to-morrow. Come, Tom, you must
go with me instantly."
They were attracting attention. Captain Hosmer's eyes were fixed
sternly upon them, for though he had not heard a word he could see that
something was wrong, and Faith's white face startled him. He felt
there was some disturbance which frightened her, but perhaps
fortunately, never dreamed she could be at all concerned in the matter.
The Traveler, however, who held the key to the situation, and had
caught a sentence or two, on his part, looked sternly at Mrs. Campbell
who, suave and unruffled, was monopolizing Mr. Lawrence and evidently
amusing him, too.
There might have been worse trouble but for young Carnegie's
moderation. The instant Donelson's plea was made he realized that for
Faith's sake, if not Allyne's, he must be cautious, so said only, "I
leave him to you now, Mr. Donelson," and seated himself, while the
attaché, partly by force and partly by coaxing, succeeded in dragging
the foolish fellow from the room without further display.
"What was the matter with that young sprout of an attaché?" asked the
captain later in the evening, as he and his daughters met for a quiet
little visit in the library. "Too much champagne?"
Hope looked quickly at her sister, whose face was turned away, and as
she did not respond, answered lightly, "I believe so. He was
quarrelsome, and Mr. Donelson wanted to get him away before he--before
he made trouble."
"H'm! With whom was he quarreling?"
Faith, back in the shadow, was still unresponsive, and Hope thinking
she ought to be the one to answer, let some indignation creep into her
own voice as she said,
"Oh, that Mr. Carnegie."
"What, Carnegie? I had taken him for a decent, modest sort of fellow.
But any one who will get into a drunken brawl before ladies--"
Faith turned quickly. She was quite white.
"Father, Mr. Carnegie had not been drinking. He did not touch the wine
and--and I'm the only one to blame." She burst into tears and, hiding
her face in both hands, started to run into her own stateroom, but her
father caught her and, with a tender arm about her waist, drew her down
upon his knee.
"I don't understand you, daughter," he said in a voice of yearning
tenderness, for whenever his children were in trouble, it always seemed
to him that his fair young wife stood at his elbow inciting him to
gentleness. "I don't understand, but I must. Why should two heady
young fools quarrel over my little girl? She is no coquette, I'm sure."
"Papa," put in Hope, for her sister was sobbing helplessly upon his
shoulder, "Faith is not to blame, and I don't half understand it,
myself, but I'll tell you just what happened--" and she did, much as it
has been repeated here.
Her father listened with a darkening face.
"Some cursed gossip!" he muttered as she finished, while Faith managed
to murmur,
"I didn't mean any harm, papa. I talked to him just as we do to
Dwight, and he told me about his home, and what he is going to do in
India. You might have heard every word, papa!"
"Of course, of course, I understand. Only, I ought to have warned you;
a steamer is a perfect hot-bed of gossip on a long voyage like this.
But how did that scapegrace get hold of--wait! Hasn't he been with
that little Mrs. Campbell most of the day?"
"Yes, he has," said Hope. "They wouldn't play gromets with us, you
remember; she said it was too warm."
"Too warm, indeed! I'd like to consign such mischief-makers to a
hotter place. Well, well, don't worry now. I begin to comprehend it
all."
"But how should Mrs. Campbell know, papa?"
"Because she was pacing the deck herself, or sitting in a corner. I
saw her under a smokestack with that Russian--no fit companion either.
Had to leave his own country because of his record. She's a nice one
to talk--but that's the very kind. Now, see here! After this you
girls keep close company, and stay in tow of Mrs. Vanderhoff, or Lady
Moreham, and then you'll be all right. You'll mind now?"
"Yes we will, father, but tell me something. Did you know Lady Moreham
before this trip? I thought--" He turned a quizzical look upon Hope's
eager face, and laughed a little.
"Better think more about things that concern yourself, little one, and
not be speculating about my passengers, or you'll get to be another
Mrs. Campbell," and, kissing both girls, he gently seated Faith in his
large chair and hurried out.