SCENE--_"The Nebuchadnezzar's Head," in the City. Time--The luncheon
hour. The interior, which is bright, and tastefully arranged, is crowded
with the graminivorous of both sexes. Clerks of a literary turn devour
"The Fortnightly" and porridge alternately, or discuss the comparative
merits of modern writers. Lady-clerks lunch sumptuously and economically
on tea and baked ginger-pudding. Trim Waitresses move about with a sweet
but slightly mystic benignity, as conscious of conducting a dietetic
mission to the dyspeptic._
_A Vegetarian Fiancé_ (_who has met his betrothed by appointment, and is
initiating her into the mysteries_). I wish you'd take something more
than a mustard-and-cress roll, though, LOUISE--it gives you such a poor
_idea_ of the thing. (_With honest pride._) You just see me put away
this plate of porridge. At the "Young Daniel," where I usually lunch,
they give you twice the quantity of stuff they do here.
_Louise_ (_admiringly_). I'm so glad I've seen you lunch. Now I shall be
able to fancy every day exactly what you are having.
_Her Fiancé_ (_to assist her imagination_). Mind you, I don't _always_
have porridge. Sometimes it's mushroom croquettes, or turnip and onion
rissoles,--whatever's going. Now yesterday, for instance, I had----
[_He details exactly what he had, and she listens to
these moving episodes with the rapt interest of a
Desdemona._
_First Literary Clerk._ No; but look here, you don't take my _point_.
I'm not running down SWINBURNE--all I'm arguing is, he couldn't have
written some of the things BROWNING did.
_Second L. C._ Of course not--when BROWNING had written them--_that's_
nothing against him.
_First L. C._ (_warmly_). I'm not saying it _is_. I'm telling you the
difference between the two men--now BROWNING, he makes you _think_!
_Second L. C._ He never made _me_ think, that's all _I_ know.
_Third L. C._ Nor yet me. Now, 'ERBERT SPENCER, he _does_ make you
think, if you like!
_First L. C._ Now you're getting on to something else. The grand fault I
find with SWINBURNE, is----
_Second L. C._ Hold hard a bit. Have you read him?
_Third L. C._ Yes, let's 'ave that first. 'Ave you _read_ 'im?
_First L. C._ (_with dignity_). I've read as much of him as I care to.
_Second L. C._ (_aggressively_). What have you read of his? Name it.
_First L. C._ I've read his _Atlantis in Caledonia_, for one thing.
_Second L. C._ (_disappointed_). Well, you don't deny there's poetry in
_that_, do you?
_First L. C._ I don't call it poetry in the sense I call WALT WHITMAN
poetry--certainly not.
_Second L. C._ There you touch a wider question--there's no _rhyme_ in
WHITMAN, to begin with.
_First L. C._ No more there is in MILTON; but I suppose you'll admit
_he's_ a poet.
[_And so on, until none of them is quite sure what he
is arguing about exactly, though each feels he has got
decidedly the best of it._
_First Lady Clerk_ (_at adjoining table, to_ Second L. C.). How excited
those young men do get, to be sure. I do like to hear them taking up
such intellectual subjects, though. Now, _my_ brothers talk of nothing
but horses, and music-halls, and football, and things like that.
_Second L. C._ (_pensively_). I expect it's the difference in food that
accounts for it. I don't think I _could_ care for a man that ate meat.
Are you going to have another muffin, dear? _I_ am.
_An Elderly Lady, with short hair and spectacles (to_ Waitress). Can you
bring me some eggs?
_Waitress._ Certainly, Madam. How would you like them done--_à la
cocotte?_
_The E. L._ (_with severity_). Certainly _not_. You will serve them
_respectably_ dressed, _if_ you please!
_Waitress_ (_puzzled_). We can give you "Convent eggs" if you prefer it.
_The E. L._ I never encourage superstition--poach them.
_Enter a_ Vegetarian Enthusiast, _with a_ Neophyte, _to whom he is
playing Amphitryon_.
_The Veg. Enth._ (_selecting a table with great care_). Always like to
be near the stove, and out of the draught. (_The prettiest Waitress
approaches, and greets him with a sacerdotal sweetness, as one of the
Faith, while to the Neophyte--whom she detects, at a glance, as still
without the pale--she is severely tolerant._) Now, what are _you_ going
to have? [_Passing him the bill of fare._
_The Neoph._ (_inspecting the document helplessly_). Well, really, er--I
think I'd better follow _your_ lead.
_The Veg. Enth._ I generally begin with a plate of porridge
myself--clears the palate, y'know.
_The Neoph._ (_unpleasantly conscious that it wouldn't clear his_ ). I'm
afraid that, at this time of day--to tell you the truth (_with desperate
candour_), I never _was_ a porridge lover.
[_The_ Waitress _regards him sorrowfully._
_The Veg. Enth._ Pity! Wholesomest thing you can take. More sustenance
to the square inch in a pint of porridge than a leg of mutton. However
(_tolerantly_), if you really won't, I can recommend the rice and
prunes.
_The Neoph._ (_feebly_). I--I'd rather begin with something a little
more----
_Waitress_ (_with a sad foreknowledge that she is casting pearls before
a swine_). We have "Flageolet Fritters and Cabbage," or "Parsnip Pie
with grilled Potatoes"--both very nice.
_The Neoph._ (_braving the unknown_). I'll have some of
this--er--"Cinghalese Stew." [_He awaits the result in trepidation._
_Customer_ (_behind, dictating his bill_). "What have I had?" Let me
see. Braised turnip and bread sauce, fricassée of carrot and artichoke,
tomato omelette, a jam roll, and a bottle of zoedone.
[_The_ Waitress _makes out his voucher accordingly, and
awards it to him, with a bright smile of approval and
encouragement._
_The Enth. V._ (_who has overheard_). A most excellent selection! That's
a man, Sir, who knows how to _live_! Ha! here's my porridge. Will you
give me some brown sugar with it, please? And--(_to the_ N.)--there's
your stew--smells good, eh?
_The Neoph._ (_tasting it, and finding it a cunning compound of curried
bananas and chicory_). I--I like the _smell_--excellent indeed!
[_He attacks the stew warily._
_The Enth. Veg._ (_disposing of his porridge_). There! Now I shall have
some lentils and spinach with parsley sauce, and a Welsh rarebit to
follow--and I think that will about do me. Will you--oh, you haven't
finished your stew yet! By the way, what will you drink? I don't often
indulge in champagne in the middle of the day; but it's my birthday--so
I think we might venture on a bottle between us, eh?
_The Neoph._ (_in whom the Cinghalese Stew has excited a lively
thirst_). By all means. I suppose you know the brands here?
_The Veg. Enth._ Only one brand--non-alcoholic, of course. Manufactured
I believe, from--ah--oranges.
_The Neoph._ Exactly so. After all, I'd just as soon have bottled
ale--if they keep it, that is.
_The Veg. Enth._ Any quantity of it. What shall it be? They've
"Anti-Bass Beer," or "Spruce Stout;" or perhaps you'd like to try their
"Pennyroyal Porter?" I'm rather partial to it myself--capital tonic!
_The Neoph._ I--I've no doubt of it. On second thoughts, if you don't
mind, I'd rather have water. (_To himself._) It doesn't _look_
Vegetarian!
_The Veg. Enth._ (_more heartily than ever_). Just as you please, my
boy. But you don't mean to say you've done!
_The Neoph_ (_earnestly_). Indeed, I couldn't touch another morsel,
really!
_The Veg. Enth._ I _thought_ that stew looked satisfying; that's where
it _is_, you see--a man can come here and get a thoroughly nutritious
and filling meal for the trifling sum of fourpence--and yet you meet
people who tell you Vegetarianism is a mere passing fad! It's a force
that's making itself increasingly felt--you must be conscious of that
yourself already?
_The Neoph._ (_politely_). Y-yes--but it's not at all unpleasant at
present--really!
_Enter a couple of_ Red-faced Customers _from the country, who seat
themselves._
_First Redf. C._ Well, I dunno how _you_ 're feelin'--but I feel as if I
could peck a bit.
_Second Do._ I can do wi' soom stokin' myself. Tidy soort of a place
this. 'Ere, Missy!--(_to one of the_ Waitresses, _who awaits his
commands with angelic patience_) you may bring me and my friend a choomp
chop a-piece, not too mooch doon, and a sorsedger, wi' two pots o' stout
an' bitter--an' lo-ook sharp about it!
[_Sensation--the_ Waitress _gives them, gently, but
firmly, to understand that these coarse and carnivorous
propensities must be indulged elsewhere; whereupon they
depart, rebuked and abashed, as Scene closes._
* * * * *