Ruggles of Red Gap/Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
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, where upon 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:
THE DELMONICO OF THE WEST
Colonel Marmaduke Ruggles of London and Paris, for the past two months a social favourite in Red Gap's select North Side set, has decided to cast his lot among us and will henceforth be reckoned as one of our leading business men. The plan of the Colonel is nothing less than to give Red Gap a truly élite and recherché restaurant after the best models of London and Paris, to which purpose he will devote a considerable portion of his ample means. The establishment will occupy the roomy corner store of the Pettingill block, and orders have already been placed for its decoration and furnishing, which will be sumptuous beyond anything yet seen in our thriving metropolis.
In speaking of his enterprise yesterday, the Colonel remarked, with a sly twinkle in his eye, "Demosthenes was the son of a cutler, Cromwell's father was a brewer, your General Grant was a tanner, and a Mr. Garfield, who held, I gather, an important post in your government, was once employed on a canal-ship, so I trust that in this land of equality it will not be presumptuous on my part to seek to become the managing owner of a restaurant that will be a credit to the fastest growing town in the state.
"You Americans have," continued the Colonel in his dry, inimitable manner, "a bewildering variety of foodstuffs, but I trust I may be forgiven for saying that you have used too little constructive imagination in the cooking of it. In the one matter of tea, for example, I have been obliged to figure in some episodes that were profoundly regrettable. Again, amid the profusion of fresh vegetables and meats, you are becoming a nation of tinned food eaters, or canned food as you prefer to call it. This, I need hardly say, adds to your cost of living and also makes you liable to one of the most dreaded of modern diseases, a disease whose rise can be traced to the rise of the tinned-food industry. Your tin openers rasp into the tin with the result that a fine sawdust of metal must drop into the contents and so enter the human system. The result is perhaps negligible in a large majority of cases, but that it is not universally so is proved by the prevalence of appendicitis. Not orange or grape pips, as was so long believed, but the deadly fine rain of metal shavings must be held responsible for this scourge. I need hardly say that at the United States Grill no tinned food will be used."
This latest discovery of the Colonel's is important if true. Be that as it may, his restaurant will fill a long-felt want, and will doubtless prove to be an important factor in the social gayeties of our smart set. Due notice of its opening will be given in the news and doubtless in the advertising columns of this journal.
Again I was brought to marvel at a peculiarity of the American press, a certain childish eagerness for marvels and grotesque wonders. I had given but passing thought to my remarks about appendicitis and its relation to the American tinned-food habit, nor, on reading the chap's screed, did they impress me as being fraught with vital interest to thinking people; in truth, I was more concerned with the comparison of myself to a restaurateur of the crude new city of New York, which might belittle rather than distinguish me, I suspected. But what was my astonishment to perceive in the course of a few days that I had created rather a sensation, with attending newspaper publicity which, although bizarre enough, I am bound to say contributed not a little to the consideration in which I afterward came to be held by the more serious-minded persons of Red Gap.
Busied with the multitude of details attending my installation, I was called upon by another press chap, representing a Spokane sheet, who wished me to elaborate my views concerning the most probable cause of appendicitis, which I found myself able to do with some eloquence, reciting among other details that even though the metal dust might be of an almost microscopic fineness, it could still do a mischief to one's appendix. The press chap appeared wholly receptive to my views, and, after securing details of my plan to smarten Red Gap with a restaurant of real distinction, he asked so civilly for a photographic portrait of myself that I was unable to refuse him. The thing was a snap taken of me one morning at Chaynes-Wotten by Higgins, the butler, as I stood by his lordship's saddle mare. It was not by any means the best likeness I have had, but there was a rather effective bit of background disclosing the driveway and the façade of the East Wing.
This episode I had well-nigh forgotten when on the following Sunday I found the thing emblazoned across a page of the Spokane sheet under a shrieking headline: "Can Opener Blamed for Appendicitis." A secondary heading ran, "Famous British Sportsman and Bon Vivant Advances Novel Theory." Accompanying this was a print of the photograph entitled, "Colonel Marmaduke Ruggles with His Favourite Hunter, at His English Country Seat."
Although the article made suitable reference to myself and my enterprise, it was devoted chiefly to a discussion of my tin-opening theory and was supplemented by a rather snarky statement signed by a physician declaring it to be nonsense. I thought the fellow might have chosen his words with more care, but again dismissed the matter from my mind. Yet this was not to be the last of it. In due time came a New York sheet with a most extraordinary page. "Titled Englishman Learns Cause of Appendicitis," read the heading in large, muddy type. Below was the photograph of myself, now entitled, "Sir Marmaduke Ruggles and His Favourite Hunter." But this was only one of the illustrations. From the upper right-hand corner a gigantic hand wielding a tin-opener rained a voluminous spray of metal, presumably, upon a cowering wretch in the lower left-hand corner, who was quite plainly all in. There were tables of statistics showing the increase, side by side of appendicitis and the tinned-food industry, a matter to which I had devoted, said the print, years of research before announcing my discovery. Followed statements from half a dozen distinguished surgeons, each signed autographically, all but one rather bluntly disagreeing with me, insisting that the tin-opener cuts cleanly and, if not man's best friend, should at least be considered one of the triumphs of civilization. The only exception announced that he was at present conducting laboratory experiments with a view to testing my theory and would disclose his results in due time. Meantime, he counselled the public to be not unduly alarmed.
Of the further flood of these screeds, which continued for the better part of a year, I need not speak. They ran the gamut from serious leaders in medical journals to paid ridicule of my theory in advertisements printed by the food-tinning persons, and I have to admit that in the end the public returned to a full confidence in its tinned foods. But that is beside the point, which was that Red Gap had become intensely interested in the United States Grill, and to this I was not averse, though I would rather I had been regarded as one of their plain, common sort, instead of the fictitious Colonel which Cousin Egbert's well-meaning stupidity had foisted upon the town. The "Sir Marmaduke Ruggles and His Favourite Hunter" had been especially repugnant to my finer taste, particularly as it was seized upon by the cheap one-and-six fellow Hobbs for some of his coarsest humour, he more than once referring to that detestable cur of Mrs. Judson's, who had quickly resumed his allegiance to me, as my "hunting pack."
The other tradesmen of the town, I am bound to say, exhibited a friendly interest in my venture which was always welcome and often helpful. Even one of my competitors showed himself to be a dead sport by coming to me from time to time with hints and advice. He was an entirely worthy person who advertised his restaurant as "Bert's Place." "Go to Bert's Place for a Square Meal," was his favoured line in the public prints, He, also, I regret to say, made a practice of displaying cooked foods in his show-window, the window carrying the line in enamelled letters, "Tables Reserved for Ladies."
Of course between such an establishment and my own there could be little in common, and I was obliged to reject a placard which he offered me, reading, "No Checks Cashed. This Means You!" although he and Cousin Egbert warmly advised that I display it in a conspicuous place. "Some of them dead beats in the North Side set will put you sideways if you don't," warned the latter, but I held firmly to the line of quiet refinement which I had laid down, and explained that I could allow no such inconsiderate mention of money to be obtruded upon the notice of my guests. I would devise some subtler protection against the dead beet-roots.
In the matter of music, however, I was pleased to accept the advice of Cousin Egbert. "Get one of them musical pianos that you put a nickel in," he counselled me, and this I did, together with an assorted repertoire of selections both classical and popular, the latter consisting chiefly of the ragging time songs to which the native Americans perform their folkdances.
And now, as the date of my opening drew near, I began to suspect that its social values might become a bit complicated. Mrs. Belknap-Jackson, for example, approached me in confidence to know if she might reserve all the tables in my establishment for the opening evening, remarking that it would be as well to put the correct social cachet upon the place at once, which would be achieved by her inviting only the desirable people. Though she was all for settling the matter at once, something prompted me to take it under consideration.
The same evening Mrs. Effie approached me with a similar suggestion, remarking that she would gladly take it upon herself to see that the occasion was unmarred by the presence of those one would not care to meet in one's own home. Again I was non-committal, somewhat to her annoyance.
The following morning I was sought by Mrs. Judge Ballard with the information that much would depend upon my opening, and if the matter were left entirely in her hands she would be more than glad to insure its success. Of her, also, I begged a day's consideration, suspecting then that I might be compelled to ask these three social leaders to unite amicably as patronesses of an affair that was bound to have a supreme social significance. But as I still meditated profoundly over the complication late that afternoon, overlooking in the meanwhile an electrician who was busy with my shaded candlesticks, I was surprised by the self-possessed entrance of the leader of the Bohemian set, the Klondike person of whom I have spoken. Again I was compelled to observe that she was quite the most smartly gowned woman in Red Gap, and that she marvellously knew what to put on her head.
She coolly surveyed my decorations and such of the furnishings as were in place before addressing me.
"I wish to engage one of your best tables," she began, "for your opening night—the tenth, isn't it?—this large one in the corner will do nicely. There will be eight of us. Your place really won't be half bad, if your food is at all possible."
The creature spoke with a sublime effrontery, quite as if she had not helped a few weeks before to ridicule all that was best in Red Gap society, yet there was that about her which prevented me from rebuking her even by the faintest shade in my manner. More than this, I suddenly saw that the Bohemian set would be a factor in my trade which I could not afford to ignore. While I affected to consider her request she tapped the toe of a small boot with a correctly rolled umbrella, lifting her chin rather attractively meanwhile to survey my freshly done ceiling. I may say here that the effect of her was most compelling, and I could well understand the bitterness with which the ladies of the Onwards and Upwards Society had gossiped her to rags. Incidently, this was the first correctly rolled umbrella, saving my own, that I had seen in North America.
"I shall be pleased," I said, "to reserve this table for you—eight places, I believe you said?"
She left me as a duchess might have. She was that sort. I felt almost quite unequal to her. And the die was cast. I faced each of the three ladies who had previously approached me with the declaration that I was a licensed victualler, bound to serve all who might apply. That while I was keenly sensitive to the social aspects of my business, it was yet a business, and I must, therefore, be in supreme control. In justice to myself I could not exclusively entertain any faction of the North Side set, nor even the set in its entirety. In each instance, I added that I could not debar from my tables even such members of the Bohemian set as conducted themselves in a seemly manner. It was a difficult situation, calling out all my tact, yet I faced it with a firmness which was later to react to my advantage in ways I did not yet dream of.
So engrossed for a month had I been with furnishers, decorators, char persons, and others that the time of the Honourable George's arrival drew on quite before I realized it. A brief and still snarky note had apprised me of his intention to come out to North America, whereupon I had all but forgotten him, until a telegram from Chicago or one of those places had warned me of his imminence. This I displayed to Cousin Egbert, who, much pleased with himself, declared that the Honourable George should be taken to the Floud home directly upon his arrival.
"I meant to rope him in there on the start," he confided to me, "but I let on I wasn't decided yet, just to keep 'em stirred up. Mrs. Effie she butters me up with soft words every day of my life, and that Jackson lad has offered me about ten thousand of them vegetable cigarettes, but I'll have to throw him down. He's the human flivver. Put him in a car of dressed beef and he'd freeze it between here and Spokane. Yes, sir; you could cut his ear off and it wouldn't bleed. I ain't going to run the Judge against no such proposition like that." Of course the poor chap was speaking his own backwoods metaphor, as I am quite sure he would have been incapable of mutilating Belknap-Jackson, or even of imprisoning him in a goods van of beef. I mean to say, it was merely his way of speaking and was not to be taken at all literally.
As a result of his ensuing call upon the pressman, the sheet of the following morning contained word of the Honourable George's coming, the facts being not garbled more than was usual with this chap.
RED GAP'S NOTABLE GUEST
En route for our thriving metropolis is a personage no less distinguished than the Honourable George Augustus Vane-Basingwell, only brother and next in line of succession to his lordship the Earl of Brinstead, the well-known British peer of London, England. Our noble visitor will be the house guest of Senator and Mrs. J. K. Floud, at their palatial residence on Ophir Avenue, where he will be extensively entertained, particularly by our esteemed fellow-townsman, Egbert G. Floud, with whom he recently hobnobbed during the latter's stay in Paris, France. His advent will doubtless prelude a season of unparalleled gayety, particularly as Mr. Egbert Floud assures us that the "Judge," as he affectionately calls him, is "sure some mixer." If this be true, the gentleman has selected a community where his talent will find ample scope, and we bespeak for his lordship a hearty welcome.