Having written and posted my letter to the Honourable George the
following morning, I summoned Mr. Belknap-Jackson, conceiving it my
first duty to notify him and Mrs. Effie of my trade intentions. I also
requested Cousin Egbert to be present, since he was my business
sponsor.
All being gathered at the Floud house, including Mrs. Belknap-Jackson,
I told them straight that I had resolved to abandon my social career,
brilliant though it had been, and to enter trade quite as one of their
middle-class Americans. They all gasped a bit at my first words, as I
had quite expected them to do, but what was my surprise, when I went
on to announce the nature of my enterprise, to find them not a little
intrigued by it, and to discover that in their view I should not in
the least be lowering myself.
“Capital, capital!” exclaimed Belknap-Jackson, and the ladies emitted
little exclamations of similar import.
“At last,” said Mrs. Belknap-Jackson, “we shall have a place with tone
to it. The hall above will be splendid for our dinner dances, and now
we can have smart luncheons and afternoon teas.”
“And a red-coated orchestra and after-theatre suppers,” said Mrs.
Effie.
“Only,” put in Belknap-Jackson thoughtfully, “he will of course be
compelled to use discretion about his patrons. The rabble, of
course----” He broke off with a wave of his hand which, although not
pointedly, seemed to indicate Cousin Egbert, who once more wore the
hunted look about his eyes and who sat by uneasily. I saw him wince.
“Some people’s money is just as good as other people’s if you come
right down to it,” he muttered, “and Bill is out for the coin.
Besides, we all got to eat, ain’t we?”
Belknap-Jackson smiled deprecatingly and again waved his hand as if
there were no need for words.
“That rowdy Bohemian set----” began Mrs. Effie, but I made bold to
interrupt. There might, I said, be awkward moments, but I had no doubt
that I should be able to meet them with a flawless tact. Meantime, for
the ultimate confusion of the Bohemian set of Red Gap, I had to
announce that the Honourable George Augustus Vane-Basingwell would
presently be with us. With him as a member of the North Side set, I
pointed out, it was not possible to believe that any desirable members
of the Bohemian set would longer refuse to affiliate with the smartest
people.
My announcement made quite all the sensation I had anticipated.
Belknap-Jackson, indeed, arose quickly and grasped me by the hand,
echoing, “The Honourable George Augustus Vane-Basingwell, brother of
the Earl of Brinstead,” with little shivers of ecstasy in his voice,
while the ladies pealed their excitement incoherently, with “Really!
really!” and “Actually coming to Red Gap--the brother of a lord!”
Then almost at once I detected curiously cold glances being darted at
each other by the ladies.
“Of course we will be only too glad to put him up,” said Mrs.
Belknap-Jackson quickly.
“But, my dear, he will of course come to us first,” put in Mrs. Effie.
“Afterward, to be sure----”
“It’s so important that he should receive a favourable impression,”
responded Mrs. Belknap-Jackson.
“That’s exactly why----” Mrs. Effie came back with not a little
obvious warmth. Belknap-Jackson here caught my eye.
“I dare say Ruggles and I can be depended upon to decide a minor
matter like that,” he said.
The ladies both broke in at this, rather sputteringly, but Cousin
Egbert silenced them.
“Shake dice for him,” he said--“poker dice, three throws, aces low.”
“How shockingly vulgar!” hissed Mrs. Belknap-Jackson.
“Even if there were no other reason for his coming to us,” remarked
her husband coldly, “there are certain unfortunate associations which
ought to make his entertainment here quite impossible.”
“If you’re calling me ‘unfortunate associations,’” remarked Cousin
Egbert, “you want to get it out of your head right off. I don’t mind
telling you, the Judge and I get along fine together. I told him when
I was in Paris and Europe to look me up the first thing if ever he
come here, and he said he sure would. The Judge is some mixer, believe
me!”
“The ‘Judge’!” echoed the Belknap-Jacksons in deep disgust.
“You come right down to it--I bet a cookie he stays just where I tell
him to stay,” insisted Cousin Egbert. The evident conviction of his
tone alarmed his hearers, who regarded each other with pained
speculation.
“Right where I tell him to stay and no place else,” insisted Cousin
Egbert, sensing the impression he had made.
“But this is too monstrous!” said Mr. Jackson, regarding me
imploringly.
“The Honourable George,” I admitted, “has been known to do unexpected
things, and there have been times when he was not as sensitive as I
could wish to the demands of his caste----”
“Bill is stalling--he knows darned well the Judge is a mixer,” broke
in Cousin Egbert, somewhat to my embarrassment, nor did any reply
occur to me. There was a moment’s awkward silence during which I
became sensitive to a radical change in the attitude which these
people bore to Cousin Egbert. They shot him looks of furtive but
unmistakable respect, and Mrs. Effie remarked almost with tenderness:
“We must admit that Cousin Egbert has a certain way with him.”
“I dare say Floud and I can adjust the matter satisfactorily to all,”
remarked Belknap-Jackson, and with a jaunty affection of
good-fellowship, he opened his cigarette case to Cousin Egbert.
“I ain’t made up my mind yet where I’ll have him stay,” announced the
latter, too evidently feeling his newly acquired importance. “I may
have him stay one place, then again I may have him stay another. I
can’t decide things like that off-hand.”
And here the matter was preposterously left, the aspirants for this
social honour patiently bending their knees to the erstwhile despised
Cousin Egbert, and the latter being visibly puffed up. By rather
awkward stages they came again to a discussion of the United States
Grill.
“The name, of course, might be thought flamboyant,” suggested
Belknap-Jackson delicately.
“But I have determined,” I said, “no longer to resist America, and so
I can think of no name more fitting.”
“Your determination,” he answered, “bears rather sinister
implications. One may be vanquished by America as I have been. One may
even submit; but surely one may always resist a little, may not one?
One need not abjectly surrender one’s finest convictions, need one?”
“Oh, shucks,” put in Cousin Egbert petulantly, “what’s the use of all
that ‘one’ stuff? Bill wants a good American name for his place. Me? I
first thought the ‘Bon Ton Eating House’ would be kind of a nice name
for it, but as soon as he said the ‘United States Grill’ I knew it was
a better one. It sounds kind of grand and important.”
Belknap-Jackson here made deprecating clucks, but not too directly
toward Cousin Egbert, and my choice of a name was not further
criticised. I went on to assure them that I should have an
establishment quietly smart rather than noisily elegant, and that I
made no doubt the place would give a new tone to Red Gap, whereat they
all expressed themselves as immensely pleased, and our little
conference came to an end.
In company with Cousin Egbert I now went to examine the premises I was
to take over. There was a spacious corner room, lighted from the front
and side, which would adapt itself well to the decorative scheme I had
in mind. The kitchen with its ranges I found would be almost quite
suitable for my purpose, requiring but little alteration, but the
large room was of course atrociously impossible in the American
fashion, with unsightly walls, the floors covered with American cloth
of a garish pattern, and the small, oblong tables and flimsy chairs
vastly uninviting.
As to the gross ideals of the former tenant, I need only say that he
had made, as I now learned, a window display of foods, quite after the
manner of a draper’s window: moulds of custard set in a row, flanked
on either side by “pies,” as the natives call their tarts, with
perhaps a roast fowl or ham in the centre. Artistic vulgarity could of
course go little beyond this, but almost as offensive were the
abundant wall-placards pathetically remaining in place.
“Coffee like mother used to make,” read one. Impertinently intimate
this, professing a familiarity with one’s people that would never do
with us. “Try our Boston Baked Beans,” pleaded another, quite
abjectly. And several others quite indelicately stated the prices at
which different dishes might be had: “Irish Stew, 25 cents”;
“Philadelphia Capon, 35 cents”; “Fried Chicken, Maryland, 50 cents”;
“New York Fancy Broil, 40 cents.” Indeed the poor chap seemed to have
been possessed by a geographical mania, finding it difficult to submit
the simplest viands without crediting them to distant towns or
provinces.
Upon Cousin Egbert’s remarking that these bedizened placards would
“come in handy,” I took pains to explain to him just how different the
United States Grill would be. The walls would be done in deep red; the
floor would be covered with a heavy Turkey carpet of the same tone;
the present crude electric lighting fixtures must be replaced with
indirect lighting from the ceiling and electric candlesticks for the
tables. The latter would be massive and of stained oak, my general
colour-scheme being red and brown. The chairs would be of the same
style, comfortable chairs in which patrons would be tempted to linger.
The windows would be heavily draped. In a word, the place would have
atmosphere; not the loud and blaring, elegance which I had observed in
the smartest of New York establishments, with shrieking decorations
and tables jammed together, but an atmosphere of distinction which,
though subtle, would yet impress shop-assistants, plate-layers and
road-menders, hodmen, carters, cattle-persons--in short the
middle-class native.
Cousin Egbert, I fear, was not properly impressed with my plan, for he
looked longingly at the wall-placards, yet he made the most loyal
pretence to this effect, even when I explained further that I should
probably have no printed menu, which I have always regarded as the
ultimate vulgarity in a place where there are any proper relations
between patrons and steward. He made one wistful, timid reference to
the “Try Our Merchant’s Lunch for 35 cents,” after which he gave in
entirely, particularly when I explained that ham and eggs in the best
manner would be forthcoming at his order, even though no placard
vaunted them or named their price. Advertising one’s ability to serve
ham and eggs, I pointed out to him, would be quite like advertising
that one was a member of the Church of England.
After this he meekly enough accompanied me to his bank, where he
placed a thousand pounds to my credit, adding that I could go as much
farther as I liked, whereupon I set in motion the machinery for
decorating and furnishing the place, with particular attention to
silver, linen, china, and glassware, all of which, I was resolved,
should have an air of its own.
Nor did I neglect to seek out the pair of blacks and enter into an
agreement with them to assist in staffing my place. I had feared that
the male black might have resolved to return to his adventurous life
of outlawry after leaving the employment of Belknap-Jackson, but I
found him peacefully inclined and entirely willing to accept service
with me, while his wife, upon whom I would depend for much of the
actual cooking, was wholly enthusiastic, admiring especially my
colour-scheme of reds. I observed at once that her almost exclusive
notion of preparing food was to fry it, but I made no doubt that I
would be able to broaden her scope, since there are of course things
that one simply does not fry.
The male black, or raccoon, at first alarmed me not a little by reason
of threats he made against Belknap-Jackson on account of having been
shopped. He nursed an intention, so he informed me, of putting
snake-dust in the boots of his late employer and so bringing evil upon
him, either by disease or violence, but in this I discouraged him
smartly, apprising him that the Belknap-Jacksons would doubtless be
among our most desirable patrons, whereupon his wife promised for him
that he would do nothing of the sort. She was a native of formidable
bulk, and her menacing glare at her consort as she made this promise
gave me instant confidence in her power to control him, desperate
fellow though he was.
Later in the day, at the door of the silversmith’s, Cousin Egbert
hailed the pressman I had met on the evening of my arrival, and
insisted that I impart to him the details of my venture. The chap
seemed vastly interested, and his sheet the following morning
published the following: