We were beginning to attract attention, so I settled the matter by
leading the way across the room to the further corner, where there
was an empty table. We sat down, and, taking the turkey out of the
basket, Pitman proceeded to prop it up in the vacant chair, to the
intense interest and joy of the people at the surrounding tables.
The waiter whose duty it was to attend to us entered into the spirit
of the joke, his sense of humour being probably quickened by a
prophetic instinct with regard to our financial value.
"Dinner for three, sir?" he inquired.
Pitman examined the menu with some deliberation, and settled upon a
satisfactory little programme. He is acquainted with my weaknesses.
"My other friend," he said, pointing to the turkey, "will begin with
a little thick soup."
At this point the manager of the restaurant arrived.
"I beg your pardon, sir, but I'm afraid I must request you to remove
that bird," he began in a firm but apologetic tone. "The other
ladies and gentlemen, you know, sir----"
This put Pitman on his dignity.
"If they object to my friends I will leave the restaurant," he
replied.
A genial-looking man at the next table here joined in the
conversation.
"I for one," he said, "am delighted to be in such interesting
society."
"You hear that!" cried Pitman triumphantly. "Go away, manager. No,
stop a minute; have a drink?"
The manager shook his head. "Thank you very much, sir; but I'm
afraid it would be against my rules. Of course, if the other guests
don't object to the bird I have nothing further to say." He shrugged
his shoulders and walked away.
I shall never forget that dinner. Under the influence of a third
bottle of champagne Pitman became magnificent. His brilliant
conversation was distributed impartially between me and the turkey
and the people at the neighbouring tables, all of whom were intensely
sympathetic. It would be useless to attempt to describe it, and to
tell the truth, I myself have a very imperfect idea as to what
actually occurred. I distinctly remember, however, that about nine
o'clock I suggested the Hippodrome.
At first Pitman was obstinate. He declared that it was not a nice
place to take the turkey to, but after a good deal of persuasion I
managed to overcome his scruples, and amidst a chorus of good wishes
we left the restaurant.
By the aid of a taxi we arrived at the Hippodrome without difficulty.
I took the turkey, and sent Pitman to buy the tickets. He returned
just as I was trying to smuggle the bird into the cloak-room.
"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded indignantly. "I've got
a stall for him."
"A stall!" I echoed.
"Yes, a stall. Don't be selfish."