THE GREAT BANQUET.
"Gewhittaker! this is splendid, Bob. I didn't think we was coming to no
such tony place as what this is," said Tom Flannery.
"Didn't I tell you it wa'n't no Jim Fisk or Boss Tweed ranch?" replied
Bob.
"So you did, Bob; but you see I didn't know about them big glass--what
do you call 'em?"
"Chandeliers," suggested Herbert.
"Chandeliers, that's it; but ain't they stunnin', though?"
"Well, there ain't nothin' mean about 'em, I should think," answered
Bob.
"No, nor 'bout anything here," said Tom. "I never see so much style
slung round before, did you, Herbert?"
"I don't know," answered young Randolph, carelessly.
"Say, Tom, don't make so much fuss about this place. 'Tain't nothin';
no, 'tain't nothin', Tom, beside some er the tony places further up
town."
A waiter now came along and handed a bill of fare to Bob, and took away
the glasses to fill them with ice.
"Do them fellers always dress up so with a swallow tail on, Bob?" asked
Tom.
"Yes, at a swell place, like this is, they do," answered Bob. "Now that
waiter he will be right back and want our orders. The first thing is
soup, and there's three kinds--_potage Julienne_, _supreme_, and
_consomme a la royale_. Which will you have, Herbert?"
"You may give me the _potage Julienne_," replied the young Vermonter.
"Say 'em again, Bob; I didn't quite catch 'em before," said Tom.
Bob smiled, and obeyed the request.
"Why not have 'em all, Bob?" said Tom, eagerly.
"'Cause 'tain't regular to do that way."
"Well, they are all on there for us, ain't they?"
"They are on for us to take whichever one we want."
"And I can't have but one?"
"No."
"Well, I thought at these er--what do you call 'em?--dinners a feller
had everything in the old bill, if he wanted it."
"_Table d'hote_, you mean, Tom Flannery, but you're way off, you are;
nobody ever has everything."
Tom looked disappointed, even sad.
"Well," continued Bob, "I'm waiting for your order. Which soup will you
have?"
"Which you goin' to have, Bob?"
"I'm goin' to have the _consomme_."
"Then I'll take the other one," said Tom.
"The _supreme_?"
"That's him," replied Tom.
"Why do you prefer that?" laughed Herbert.
"Well, you see, it sounds better. That one that Bob has took I can't
make no sense out of it nohow, and I don't believe it's good to eat,
either--anything with a name like that."
[Illustration: THE GREAT BANQUET.]
"But the name of your soup is not much better."
"That's so, Herbert. Blamed if I know what they wants to put such stuff
on fer a feller to eat fer," said Tom, with an air of disgust.
"Well, Tom, you may as well get used to these names, for you'll get a
lot of 'em before you get through this bill," said Bob, laughing.
"Them names don't go all the way through, do they, Bob?" asked Tom,
alarmed.
"Yes, plumb through to the end."
"Well, that will spoil my dinner, then, for I don't know nothing about
such words."
"No, I guess it won't spoil your dinner, Tom; I'll bet you will eat like
a hungry tramp before we get through."
"Maybe I will, Bob Hunter, but I'd like to know what I'm eatin' all the
same," replied Tom, somewhat indignant. He did not like to be compared
to a hungry tramp.
"That's all right, Tom Flannery; now don't you get off your base so
sudden like. You will think you never struck a lay out like this before
you get half way down the bill," said Bob, trying to restore good
feeling.
"Well, I hope I will, that's what I say. A feller ought to get something
good when he has to wade through such blamed old names as these, that
don't mean nothin'."
"But they do mean somethin', jest as much as what our words mean to us."
"Do you mean to tell me, Bob Hunter, that anybody uses these words?"
"Of course they do, Tom. They are French words, and French folks know
what they mean."
Tom thought for a moment; then he said:
"I was way off, Bob. I thought it was some words jest made up for this
bill, 'cause you see I don't know nothin' about French."
The waiter now reappeared, bringing with him two long rolls of French
bread, a supply of butter, and three glasses of ice water.
Presently the soup was brought on.
"Sail right in now, Herbert, you and Tom," said Bob. "The next course
will be right along."
Tom took a few drops, timidly, then a larger portion--less timidly--and
now he put on a full head of steam and worked the spoon like a trip
hammer.
When his plate was empty he said: "I think I struck it right, Bob; I
knew I hit the best name."
"Why, was yours good, Tom?" replied Bob.
"I should think it was, Bob. It was way up, that's what it was. You see
'tain't always, Bob, that a feller can pick a winner the first time."
"Now you're givin' us some more of your horse racin' expressions, Tom.
Can't you never let 'em alone, 'specially at a tony dinner like this
is?" said Bob.
"Well, I didn't think about that, Bob. I didn't mean to do nothin'
wrong. But you see, Bob, I didn't know of no other way to get at it.
This orderin' stuff by these blamed words is takin' chances--what I call
bigger chances than bettin' on a horse race."
Young Randolph and Bob laughed heartily at Tom's remarks.
The next course was now put on the table. It came in a large platter.
Three plates were placed before Bob, and he served the fish and potatoes
in a very creditable manner.
"Now comes the _entrees_," said Bob.
"What are them things, Bob?" said Tom, while ravenously devouring the
portion before him.
"Well, I was jest goin' to give 'em to you when you busted in on me,"
replied Bob. "Here they are:
"_Fillet pique._
"_Fricandeau de Veau._
"_Pates aux huitres._"
"Can't a fellow get more'n one go at 'em, Bob?" said Tom, comically.
"That's all, only one go, Tom; which will you have?"
"I'll take the first one, Bob."
"The _fillet pique_?"
"Yes, if that's the first one."
"Well, 'tis; but, Tom, you're way off. You didn't pick no winner this
time, as you say, for that dish ain't no good."
"Where did you get on to them blamed names, Bob? You're slingin' jest as
much style here, too, as you did in the detective business."
"Well, why wouldn't I know 'bout 'em, Tom? Didn't I work in one of these
places for a good while, and didn't I pay some attention to the way
things was done?"
"So you did, Bob; I didn't think about that."
"I, too, have been surprised, Bob, to see how familiar you seemed with
the various dishes," said Herbert.
"Well, that's how it come. You see I picked it up."
"But you are as much at ease serving the dinner as I am at eating it."
"How much?" said Bob, feeling in his pocket for loose change.
"What do you mean?" asked Herbert, seriously.
Bob smiled, and Tom burst into a characteristic laugh. It was the first
time since the dinner commenced that he had seen the funny side of
anything. Tom Flannery was not given to looking upon the comical side.
He was too credulous for that; but when anything did strike him as
funny, and he made up his mind to treat it as such, the outburst of
laughter that followed--laughter that was rich and childlike--was
something to do one good.
Now, there was nothing especially bright or funny about Bob's remark
that should have caused Tom to become so hilarious. In fact, it was more
Herbert's serious manner, than what Bob said, that set him off.
"'Twas an old chestnut, any way, Bob," as Tom said the next day; "but
Herbert looked so honest about it, jest as if you wasn't talkin' jokes,
that it jest made me lay myself out and shout. I couldn't er stopped,
Bob, ef it had killed me."
When the laughter had subsided, Bob explained his joke to Herbert, and
then said:
"You have not told me what you will have. Here comes the waiter for our
orders."
"You order 'em, Bob," said Tom. "You know what's good."
"That is a good suggestion, Tom, and meets with my approval," remarked
Herbert.
Bob accordingly ordered for all three, and his selection gave excellent
satisfaction to his guests.
The next course was simply maccaroni, cooked in the Italian style, with
tomato dressing.
"This is bang up, Bob," said Tom Flannery, smacking his lips. "Them
Eyetalians are some good after all, ain't they?"
Roast duck followed the maccaroni, with jelly, and fine cut celery with
dressing.
Then came ice cream, followed by cheese--_fromage de Brie_.
"Bob, there's somethin' wrong about this," said Tom, seriously,
referring to the last course. "Jest get on to that piece, will you?" and
Tom passed his portion to Bob.
"Don't be a fool, now, Tom Flannery," said Bob, with assumed
displeasure, while he struggled hard to keep from giggling.
"Well, I ain't no fool, Bob; I guess I know when I know a thing," said
Tom, indignantly. "I tell you that piece is all spoilt," and, to make
sure of his statement, he took it in his fingers, and without regard to
good manners placed it close to his nose, and gave it a genuine test.
Bob threw himself back in the chair, and exploded with laughter. Herbert
did likewise. But Tom was mad. He thought Bob had played a trick on him,
and he said:
"I don't intend to be imposed upon in any such way as what this is, Bob
Hunter. I'll show you that I can put up jobs, too, ef you think it is so
much fun."
Now Brie cheese is somewhat soft, so much so that it many times adheres
slightly to whatever it touches. Tom had rashly taken it up in his
fingers, and now, while breathing forth malice and threats against Bob,
he chanced to put his fingers up to his mouth. This brought them again
in close proximity to his nose.
"Gewhopper!" yelled Tom, as he thrust his hand into his trousers pocket
with a view to better protecting his nose. "I wouldn't er thought this
of you, Bob Hunter!"
Both Bob and Herbert were convulsed with laughter, and were holding
their sides from pain.
From the fact that they laughed so uncontrollably, and that they did
not deny his charge, Tom felt sure that he had been made the butt of
a foul joke, and he resented it spunkily. This of course only made the
situation more ridiculous, and the more Tom said, the harder Bob and
Herbert laughed. At length, however, Bob quieted down sufficiently to
remark:
"Tom, listen to me. You're the biggest fool I ever see."
"Yes, you think you've made a fool of me, don't you, Bob Hunter? But you
hain't, for I got on to your game before I got any er that durned stuff
into my mouth."
"Oh, don't you be so ignorant, Tom Flannery. The trouble is with you,
you're a chump, you don't know nothin' about livin' at high toned places
like this is."
"No, nor I don't want to nuther, Bob Hunter. Ef that stuff is what you
call high toned livin', why I don't want no more of it in mine.
I'll----"
In the excitement of the conversation, Tom forgot to keep his hand
housed up longer in his pocket, and now the tips of his fingers
unconsciously found their way close to his nose again.
This was what caused Tom to break off his sentence so abruptly. He
didn't say anything for a minute, but he looked a whole volume of
epithets.
Herbert and Bob started in on another round of laughter that still
further irritated Tom.
"I'm goin'," said he, slinging his napkin savagely upon the table; "I
won't stand this business no more, Bob Hunter."
"Sit down, Tom," commanded Bob; "there's more to come yet. You hain't
had no coffee yet, nor nuts and raisins."
Tom immediately replaced the napkin in his lap, and pulled up to the
table again. Coffee, nuts and raisins! Oh, no, Tom Flannery couldn't
allow his grievance to deprive him of these luxuries!
"Now, Tom," said Bob, "I jest want to show you that you've made a
fool of yourself, and that we hain't made no fool of you. Of course we
couldn't help laughin' to see you actin' so redickerlous, Tom, and all
about a little piece of cheese, too. A feller would er thought, Tom,
that you'd been dumped in a sewer, to see you carry on; but when you get
one er them crazy notions in your head, why, there's no doin' anything
with you, but to let you sail in and enjoy yourself."
Bob then ate his choice bit of Brie with a keen relish, much to the
surprise of Tom, and I may say Herbert as well, for the latter's taste
had not been educated up to the point where he could eat such food.
At length reconciliation was reached, and Tom was once more happy. When
the coffee had been drunk, the three boys, while eating nuts and
raisins, discussed the problem of money making.
"How about the Wall Street racket?" remarked Tom.
"You refer to speculating, I suppose?" replied Herbert.
"Yes. You see my capital ain't earnin' me nothin'."
"Well, I have had very little time to think about that since we first
spoke of it. In fact, I am not in favor of the idea."
"What! not in favor of spekerlatin'?" said Bob, with astonishment.
"Nuther am I," put in Tom, wisely; "I don't think it's safe."
"But you think it's safe to bet on horse racin', don't you, Tom
Flannery?"
"Well, it's safer'n what spekerlatin' is, that's what I think, Bob
Hunter."
"Humph! You know a lot, don't you, Tom Flannery?"
"No, I don't know a lot about them Wall Street schemes, ef that's what
you mean; but I guess I can pick a winner at racin'."
"Well, ef you don't know nothin' about spekerlatin', how are you goin'
to use any judgment? Tell me that now, Tom Flannery."
"You kinder want to bulldoze me, don't you, Bob Hunter? You've got your
head sot on spekerlatin', and you want to make me think jest like you
do."
"You tire me, Tom Flannery," said Bob, with a great show of disgust.
"I'd try and have some sense, ef I was you."
"All right, Bob, then I'll try 'n' have some sense--I'll do jest as you
say, and spekerlate till my five dollars is all blowed in. Now, does
that satisfy you, Bob?"
Tom Flannery had almost always yielded readily to Bob's judgment. This
sudden independence of opinion, therefore, was a surprise to young
Hunter.
"Why, that's all right, Tom," said he, instantly changing his attitude.
"I don't care nothin' about your spekerlatin' ef you don't want to; but
I want to make some money, that's what I do, and I thought you did too,
Tom."
"So I do, Bob, so I do; but you see so many folks loses money down there
in Wall Street, and some of them big fellers, too, with heaps of money,
just dead loads of it, to back 'em."
"Well, that's so, Tom, I know they loses sometimes, but don't lots of
'em make money? Now answer me that."
"Yes, you are right, Bob, they do some of 'em strike it rich, but as you
said about the racin' I guess the money ain't good money, fer it don't
stick to 'em."
"Well, I should think it stuck to Jay Gould, didn't it?"
"Yes, he is one of the few successful ones," said Herbert, answering the
question for Tom.
"Yes, but there are lots and lots of them kings of Wall Street,"
persisted Bob, who had a strong desire to become a speculator.
"So there are, Bob," replied Herbert, "but they do not hold their rank
throughout their lives. A man that is called a king in Wall Street one
day, may be a beggar the next day."
"Think of that, Bob," put in Tom Flannery, exultantly.
"Well, I know, but then them kings don't all go up like that."
"But the majority of them do. If you will get a book that gives the
history of Wall Street, you will be surprised to see how thousands,
hundreds of thousands, and even millions, are swept away almost without
warning."
"Whew! just think of it! A whole million dollars!" exclaimed Tom. "Say,
Herbert, how much is a million dollars? It must be a whoppin' big pile,
that's what I think."
"A million dollars--let me see, Tom, how I can explain it so that you
will comprehend its----"
"So I will what?" interrupted Tom, doubtful of the meaning of the word
"comprehend."
Herbert made this clear, and then said:
"Now, Tom, you have a five dollar bill, and----"
"Yes, and it's a new one, too, crisp as a ginger snap," interrupted
young Flannery.
"All right, then, a new five dollar bill. Now, suppose you had
altogether twenty bills just like this one, you would have how much
money?"
"Can you tell, Bob?" said Tom, grinning.
"Why, of course I can!" replied Bob, throwing his head back, proudly.
"Well, let's see ef you can."
"One hundred dollars," answered Bob.
"I guess that's right, Herbert, a hundred dollars; but I never see so
much money all at one time, did you, Bob?"
Herbert proceeded with the illustration by saying:
"Then, Tom, you understand how many five dollar bills it takes to make
one hundred dollars. Now, it would require ten one hundred dollar bills
to make one one thousand dollar bill."
"Gewhopple! that's climbin' up, ain't it, Bob?" exclaimed Tom,
incredulously.
"Oh, but that's nothing," said Herbert. "Just listen: It would take a
hundred one thousand dollar bills to make one hundred thousand dollars,
and it would require ten times one hundred thousand dollars to make one
million."
"Well, that's fur enough," said Tom, scratching his head. "Don't give me
no more tonight, for I can't take it in no way. A million dollars; and
you say some er them kings loses so much money as all this in almost no
time?"
"Why, yes; perhaps in a single day," answered Herbert.
"And you think, Bob Hunter, that we could go down there with only five
dollars apiece and lay out them kings and scoop the boodle, do you? Now,
answer me that."
"Well, it does seem kinder like takin' chances, ef them fellers loses
money like that."
"Of course it does, Bob, fer you see we wouldn't have but one go at the
game with only five dollars; would we, Herbert?"
"Five dollars wouldn't go very far, for a fact," replied Herbert, "and
in my opinion it would be lost very quickly."
"But I've heard of fellers that went down there without no money, and
they made loads of it."
"Very true," said Herbert; "but did you ever hear of the thousands that
went down there and came away without a cent?"
"No, I never did," admitted Bob, frankly.
Tom smiled quietly, for he felt that Bob would have to acknowledge
himself mistaken, and at last come over to his side.
"Well, now, there is the very point," said Herbert, "and it is the
one that nobody stops to think about. A report is circulated that
some one makes a big haul in Wall Street, and, without thinking about the
thousands of people that lose money there, a thousand or two more people
try their luck at speculating, thinking, each one of them, to make a
great haul too. But the result is the same as it was with the other
thousand speculators--the money is swallowed up, and gone forever."
"What becomes of it all?" asked Bob, much impressed by Herbert's well
founded argument.
"Well, the most of it goes into the pockets of the kings."
"Then I shouldn't think them kings would get busted, as you say they
do," said Bob, always keen at making a point.
"They would not if they had to deal only with the small speculators,
such as you would like to be. If that were the case they would win
nearly every time. But kings are the ones who break kings."
"Oh, I see now," said Bob. "There are a lot of 'em, and they jest go for
each other. Is that it?"
"Yes, that is the way they do it."
"Well, I guess you are right, then, Herbert--you and Tom."
"I feel sure I am. Mr. Goldwin talked with me about it today, and told
me never to speculate."
"But he speculates," said Bob, "and he is worth a lot of money."
"Oh, no, never."
"What's he call himself a broker for, then?"
"Why, a broker is not necessarily a speculator. A broker is one who buys
and sells stocks or bonds for some one else--for a speculator, and he
gets his commission or pay for doing the business."
"Well, I guess I was way off, Herbert. I thought all of them brokers was
speculators, and I knew lots of 'em was solid with money."
"Yes, that is the way of it," replied Herbert. "The broker makes the
money and the speculator loses it, usually."
"Don't brokers never lose nothin', Herbert?" asked Tom.
"No, not unless they trust some one who fails to pay them."
"Well, I thought you would get sick er spekerlatin', Bob, and I'm glad
you've done it before you're broke," said Tom Flannery. "I don't want no
spekerlatin' for me."
"No, but you'd like a go at horse racin' all the same, Tom Flannery,"
said Bob.
"No, I wouldn't nuther, Bob, fer you talked me out er bettin' and into
spekerlatin', and now Herbert here has jest upset the spekerlatin' idea,
so I'm out of it all, Bob."
"Good," said Herbert; "I am glad you have come to so wise a decision."
"So am I," said Bob, heartily.
"So am I," echoed Tom, with equal fervor.
"But now," said Bob, "what are we goin' to do with our money? It ain't
earnin' us nothin', you see."
"I think the best plan, Bob," said Herbert, thoughtfully, "would be
for you and Tom to put your money in the savings bank. There it will be
safe, and will be earning a little interest all the time. Let it remain
there until we see a chance to invest it to good advantage, and in the
meantime add as much to it as possible."
"I never thought of that before," said Bob.
"Nuther did I," added Tom.
"Strikes me 'tain't a bad scheme," continued Bob. "What do you say,
Tom?"
"Well, I don't see no great money in it, anyhow," answered young
Flannery. "But if Herbert says it's the best thing, why I s'pose 'tis."
"It is the best plan, I am sure," said young Randolph. "Very few
speculators ever come out rich. The men who gain wealth are those who
invest their money carefully, and put it where it will be safe."