Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 132: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

988 can’t be done, my boy. Sorry,” he ended -perfunctorily, and rose from his seat. The younger man rose, too, but his com- panion had already begun to make his way toward the distant door. The young man, staring blankly, incredulously, watched him go, and then slowly resumed his chair. “That finishes everything,” he whis- pered, and sat forward with his elbows on the table and his palms pressed against his temples. ill. Mr. CHEpworTH, by covert inspection of what other people were doing, contrived a creditable handling of his hors d’euvres, though his instincts, trained by a. lifetime of economy, rather rebelled at leaving so much in the little dishes to be taken away again by the waiter. His soup presented no difficulties, and he tackled the fish course with a relieved zest, for, somewhat to his surprise, it was recognizably fried fish. And then came doubt and perplexity again, for the waiter, setting a leather- bound pamphlet before him, asked none too hopefully: ““ Wine, sir?” “Er, yes,” said Mr. Chedworth. bottle.” The waiter opened the list and flicked his finger nails across it. “Which will you have, sir?” “Er—” hesitated Mr. Chedworth. “What do most of ’em have?’’ ‘A nice champagne, sir?” suggested the waiter, ‘““ Er—yes——champagne,” Chedworth. Of course he ought to have remembered! Champagne was notoriously the correct thing for an occasion like this. ‘“‘Er—not too much!” he called after the waiter. Thereafter his lunch proceeded with a delightful smoothness, for the waiter now developed an easy friendliness toward him and was proving himself most helpful. And Mr. Chedworth enjoyed his champagne, sipping cautiously at it, and finding a rare relish in the flavor and prickle of it. And, as the meal progressed, a soothful cA decided Mr. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. benignancy began to steal over him, and with it there came a strange sense of bold- ness and equality. He glanced about the crowded restaurant and reminded himself that, after all, he was probably a good bit richer than most of these dressed-up people here. Still, it was capital to be enjoying one’s self as an equal among them. He hoped every one was finding as much pleas- ure in lunching as he was. His gaze fell on the young man opposite. He was still sitting there in a dejected at- titude, stirring his feet now and then as if about to leave, but coming back to inertness again, as though he could not bring himself to face the world outside. Mr. Chedworth felt sorry for the young man. It was so clear that he was in trou- ble of some sort. Pity everybody could — not be bright and cheerful on a day like this! “ Er—” began Mr. Chedworth, impul- sively addressing the young man and nod- ding his head at the bottle of champagne. “Would you care—I mean—will you sate: me in a glass?” The young man, despite his listless ex- pression, was surprised by the offer. ‘““No—no, thanks,” he said. “Do you good,” encouraged Mr. Ched- worth, and, to his own surprise, began mas- terfully pouring champagne into the young man’s glass. “ First time I’ve been here,” he mentioned as a sort of vague explana-~ tion. The young man sipped at the wine, and, setting down his glass, moodily eyed Mr. Chedworth. “It’s the last time I shall be here,” he said. Mr. Chedworth did not like this. It seemed to him that there was an insult concealed in it somewhere. He resolved to leave the young man alone. A few minutes later a fresh question of procedure presented itself to him. He beckoned to the waiter. “T never thought—about my bill, I mean,” he said. ‘Yes, sir?” asked the waiter, becoming vigilant at once. ‘“T suppose they can change a bank note here for me?” Fcomicbooks,com |