Chapter 10

MRS. WINDEMERE'S DINNER.

"Well, it is almost time for the Lamb dinner," remarked Mr. Lawrence, late that afternoon, to the group about him under the awning of the after-deck, from which they were watching the sunset, some lounging in the easy steamer-chairs, others in the hammocks which had been stretched in every available space, and still others, among whom was Dwight, resting full length on the large Persian rug, which had been laid in the center of the deck planks. For the heat, and still, easy motion made every one lazy.

Upon hearing this remark the boy looked up.

"Lamb dinner? I thought it was pig this morning. It hasn't changed into sheep, I hope?"

"And must I really explain my observation to a lad about entering the High School?" cried his uncle reproachfully. "I'll warrant Bess knows--and somebody else, too!" catching the gleam in Hope's eye.

"Oh, yes, I understand, in a way," returned Bess. "Let's see, Charles Lamb, the writer, was very fond of roast pig, wasn't he?"

"Was he, Miss Hope?"

"Yes, sir, and wrote an essay upon it which has become a classic."

"Oh, of course! I'd almost forgotten that," put in Bess, hastily.

"And I'm free to confess I never knew it," added her brother. "Fact is, I begin to think I didn't learn much in school, anyhow--that is, much that I've needed since. I've picked up more about geography and history on this trip than all I ever learned there."

"No, no, not quite that, my boy! You simply have digested what then you only swallowed. Don't you know what Channing says--'It is not enough to cram ourselves with a great load of collections--we must chew them over again'? The fact is, nothing can ever be quite learned until it is experienced. I may be taught from a book that water expands in freezing, but I cannot realize that fact till I, sometime, leave water in a pitcher and find it broken next morning. Then I know, in a way never to be forgotten, about this scientific truth. So it is in geography; we have always taken in certain facts regarding the relative positions of land and water, mountain and plain, but if we had attempted to go anywhere, with absolutely no guide but memory, nine out of ten of us would be lost on the first stage of the journey. You are now simply assimilating what you learned at school, and making the facts, which you took on trust then, part and parcel of your actual experience now. It seems to me one of the best ways to study geography at home is to travel on paper. That comes nearest the real thing. Map out a route, buy your tickets (in imagination), take your conveyance, and on the way see everything possible to be gleaned from those eyes which have gone before, and left a record of their impressions. Try and think if you would see in the same way, and what else might be observed by quick eyes, natural to occur in that part of the globe. If one has imagination he may almost believe, in time, that he has really visited the places so studied.

"I knew a young fellow, once, who lived in an insignificant town in Vermont, and had never been fifty miles from home, yet who kept up such journeys for years, and many a time, in talking with him, I, the real traveler, would learn facts about certain localities where I had been, from him who never set foot near them. Just to prove him, once, I said, 'Are you acquainted with Salt Lake City?' 'Pretty well,' he answered modestly. Having spent a summer or two there, myself, I thought I would try and trip him up, so said, carelessly, 'When I stood in front of Brigham Young's Square and looked at that great town on my left'--but there he interrupted me, quick as a flash, 'You mean looked down upon the town at your right, don't you? Brigham's Square is on what is called the North Bench, and standing before it you must overlook the larger part of the city lying upon your right.' Of course this was correct, and I had to acknowledge that he really knew as much about many localities as I, who had visited them. But he was unusual."

"Well," said Dwight slowly, "what I have to complain of about travelers is that they don't tell the little things--the details, you know. I suppose it seems silly to them to say whether they went on board a steamer in a boat, or across a gangway, or up a flight of steps, or to describe just how a car looks when they travel by rail, but I used to wish they would. And when I write my book of travels I'm going to!"

"I would," said his sister encouragingly.

"Well, you wait! But say, uncle, there are some books in your library at home that you used to have when you were a boy, I reckon, for the pictures look about a century old, but I used to like to read them ever so much, and since I came abroad I've been finding out how well they describe the things that happen to a traveler even to-day. For instance, when you and I went from Cadiz to Ronda by diligence."

"Oh, you mean the Rollo books--Rollo's Tour in Europe?" laughed Mr. Lawrence. "How I did pore over those when I was a little boy! Yes, they do go into details, that's a fact. Somebody's advice to Rollo always to follow the crowd when bewildered at some great railway terminus often occurs to me, still, and is acted upon with perfect success."

"But don't you think travelers who write for publication sometimes draw the long bow a bit?" asked Lieutenant Carnegie in his diffident way.

"Oh, never!" cried a voice from the guardrail, and the Traveler held up a beseeching hand as he came forward. "Don't take away our reputation for veracity, I pray you! With the public's confidence lost to us what could we do? We are all truthful--even to Du Chaillu and Gulliver."

Every one laughed, and the young man, blushing a little, returned,

"Well, I was thinking especially of one or two I've read, lately. For instance, thirty miles a day is quite a tramp for an ordinary man on good level roads, without luggage; and when a traveler tells me he makes sixty over hills, or marshes, weighted down with camp supplies, who wasn't brought up a soldier, either, why, I just begin to compare it with my own experiences and say--"

"Here _lies_ a great man, don't you?" put in Dwight.

"Well, yes, that's about it."

"Oh, but you must remember that often he can only judge of the distance made by his feelings," laughed the Traveler. "It seems sixty miles, anyhow."

"I don't doubt that," cried Carnegie, showing handsome teeth in a smile. "I thought there must be some way of getting around it. But if he had said thirty-five miles I'd have believed him, and thought him a mighty good tramper into the bargain."

"Yet many who have never tramped under knapsack, blankets, and tent-cloth would say, 'That's nothing!' and our poor voyager, who really had made a record, would be consigned to oblivion. In all art, even that of writing facts, one must exaggerate a little in order to make the effect life-size--so to say."

"That's true enough," said Mrs. Vanderhoff. "It is so easy to sit still and pass judgment upon those who exert themselves. When I hear a person criticising a painting, a story, a building, a song who could not draw a straight line, write a sentence correctly, build a cob-house on just proportions, nor keep the key through 'Yankee Doodle,' I long to insist upon his making a practical trial in such things before daring to make a criticism. Yet it is a fact that artistic people of every grade and type have to writhe under the criticisms of ignoramuses, who could not accomplish the piece of work they scathingly denounce if their lives depended upon it. I pick up a book and fling it aside with the comment, 'It's not worth reading!' or I look over a great vessel like this and say, 'How clumsily built!' but what if I were doomed to write a similar book, to plan a great steamer--just think of the results! I would never criticise again."

"It would be a pretty good scheme," laughed Mr. Lawrence. "Make these bilious critics prove their right to the title by doing the work. I could really enjoy their agonies on occasion."

"But would you have no criticisms, then?" asked Mrs. Campbell. "Would not that mean stagnation in effort? There must be something to spur one on to better work, mustn't there?"

"I doubt if unintelligent criticism often does prove an incentive," said the Traveler. "'Let me be judged by my peers' is a universal sentiment with the conscientious in any employment."

"Yes, Rachel," put in Mr. Lawrence, smiling at his sister, "if Captain Hosmer should criticise the ship we would build we might endure it, but if--well, Mr. Donelson, for instance, ventured to elevate his nose we would naturally think he knew nothing about it, and would not even try to please him."

"How _could_ he elevate his nose?" asked Mrs. Campbell innocently, in a whisper that sent the Windemere girls off into giggles, for Mr. Donelson's nose was not only long but slightly hooked, besides. Evidently Mrs. Campbell had not quite forgiven the attaché for his desertion of the morning.

"But if I'm not mistaken we're all competent to judge of a good dinner, if we couldn't cook one," laughed the young man in return, not having caught her comment, and he pointed to Tegeloo who, smiling and important, was bowing before Mrs. Windemere.

"Dinner is served to madam!" he announced with a flourish and an odd accent, while, at the same instant, Captain Hosmer gallantly offered his arm.

"May I have the pleasure? Our dinner is waiting, I believe, Mrs. Windemere," and amid much merriment and excitement, the other gentlemen quickly sought partners and followed.

By a previous understanding with Mr. Malcolm, Mrs. Windemere and party were offered the places of the four young people at the captain's table, and they "went down a peg," as Dwight put it, to another, entirely filled with the younger portion of the guests. If there was a little more learning and elegance, perhaps, at the former, there was a vast amount of fun and nonsense at the latter. Every one in the saloon was supplied with at least one thin slice from the prize pig which, roasted whole and holding an ear of corn in its teeth, was gaily decorated with the flags of England and the United States. It was held high for inspection before the carving began, and many a joke ran around, from table to table, upon the fine appearance of his porcine majesty.

At some of the tables wine flowed freely, and a few of the young men soon ordered it at the one where our girls were seated. It is more commonly used at meals abroad than with middle-class Americans at home, and nearly all partook. Neither Bess nor Dwight, however, would take it and, seeing this, Faith and Hope, caring little about it, also declined, though they had never been taught conscientious scruples regarding its use. No special comment was made upon this, but when Chester Carnegie also turned down his glass the young attachés began a running fire of jests at his expense; Mr. Allyne especially, who soon showed the influence of his champagne, leading off with some sharply personal remarks.

The lieutenant said as little as possible in return, but occasionally a witty reply would turn the laugh against his opponent, who grew disagreeable and really quarrelsome, as the wine affected him more and more.

Seeing this, Carnegie attempted to ignore the whole matter, and turning to Faith, who sat next him, began talking in a lowered tone, hoping Allyne would understand that he was now going too far and so drop the subject.

But a man in liquor is an irresponsible being, and Allyne, under the polish of education and training, possessed the nature of a bully--he was tyrannical and contentious. Choosing now to assume that Carnegie's partial turning away and low-voiced conversation were intended to insult him, he straightened up, and looking fiercely across the table, with eyes already watery from the heady fumes of the strong wine, tapped sharply with his glass and said in too loud a tone for the place, "Carnegie, I was talking to you."

The lieutenant turned his head a trifle, and bowed coolly.

"Excuse me till later, please; I am engaged with Miss Hosmer at present."

The other laughed out in a disagreeable manner. While alone with Mrs. Campbell, that afternoon, he had easily extracted the name of the young man with whom one of the twins (neither knew which one) had been promenading the deck, the evening before, and now, mingled with his rising wrath towards him, was the confused memory of the woman's subtle insinuations.

When sober, Mr. Allyne was usually a gentleman, but in his cups he became little short of a ruffian in manner. He laughed significantly.

"Engaged with, or to?" he asked with insolence. "It had better be to from reports, I should say!"

Instantly the lieutenant, pale as death, was on his feet, while Faith, gasping a little, leaned back in her chair, as white and almost fainting. Hope and Dwight, round-eyed and not half comprehending, stared amazedly, while Donelson, realizing that his companion was quite beside himself, also sprang up and laying a firm hand on Allyne's arm, turned beseechingly.

"Don't, Carnegie--for heaven's sake don't make a scene! I'll get him away. He'll be in the dust for this, to-morrow. Come, Tom, you must go with me instantly."

They were attracting attention. Captain Hosmer's eyes were fixed sternly upon them, for though he had not heard a word he could see that something was wrong, and Faith's white face startled him. He felt there was some disturbance which frightened her, but perhaps fortunately, never dreamed she could be at all concerned in the matter. The Traveler, however, who held the key to the situation, and had caught a sentence or two, on his part, looked sternly at Mrs. Campbell who, suave and unruffled, was monopolizing Mr. Lawrence and evidently amusing him, too.

There might have been worse trouble but for young Carnegie's moderation. The instant Donelson's plea was made he realized that for Faith's sake, if not Allyne's, he must be cautious, so said only, "I leave him to you now, Mr. Donelson," and seated himself, while the attaché, partly by force and partly by coaxing, succeeded in dragging the foolish fellow from the room without further display.

"What was the matter with that young sprout of an attaché?" asked the captain later in the evening, as he and his daughters met for a quiet little visit in the library. "Too much champagne?"

Hope looked quickly at her sister, whose face was turned away, and as she did not respond, answered lightly, "I believe so. He was quarrelsome, and Mr. Donelson wanted to get him away before he--before he made trouble."

"H'm! With whom was he quarreling?"

Faith, back in the shadow, was still unresponsive, and Hope thinking she ought to be the one to answer, let some indignation creep into her own voice as she said,

"Oh, that Mr. Carnegie."

"What, Carnegie? I had taken him for a decent, modest sort of fellow. But any one who will get into a drunken brawl before ladies--"

Faith turned quickly. She was quite white.

"Father, Mr. Carnegie had not been drinking. He did not touch the wine and--and I'm the only one to blame." She burst into tears and, hiding her face in both hands, started to run into her own stateroom, but her father caught her and, with a tender arm about her waist, drew her down upon his knee.

"I don't understand you, daughter," he said in a voice of yearning tenderness, for whenever his children were in trouble, it always seemed to him that his fair young wife stood at his elbow inciting him to gentleness. "I don't understand, but I must. Why should two heady young fools quarrel over my little girl? She is no coquette, I'm sure."

"Papa," put in Hope, for her sister was sobbing helplessly upon his shoulder, "Faith is not to blame, and I don't half understand it, myself, but I'll tell you just what happened--" and she did, much as it has been repeated here.

Her father listened with a darkening face.

"Some cursed gossip!" he muttered as she finished, while Faith managed to murmur,

"I didn't mean any harm, papa. I talked to him just as we do to Dwight, and he told me about his home, and what he is going to do in India. You might have heard every word, papa!"

"Of course, of course, I understand. Only, I ought to have warned you; a steamer is a perfect hot-bed of gossip on a long voyage like this. But how did that scapegrace get hold of--wait! Hasn't he been with that little Mrs. Campbell most of the day?"

"Yes, he has," said Hope. "They wouldn't play gromets with us, you remember; she said it was too warm."

"Too warm, indeed! I'd like to consign such mischief-makers to a hotter place. Well, well, don't worry now. I begin to comprehend it all."

"But how should Mrs. Campbell know, papa?"

"Because she was pacing the deck herself, or sitting in a corner. I saw her under a smokestack with that Russian--no fit companion either. Had to leave his own country because of his record. She's a nice one to talk--but that's the very kind. Now, see here! After this you girls keep close company, and stay in tow of Mrs. Vanderhoff, or Lady Moreham, and then you'll be all right. You'll mind now?"

"Yes we will, father, but tell me something. Did you know Lady Moreham before this trip? I thought--" He turned a quizzical look upon Hope's eager face, and laughed a little.

"Better think more about things that concern yourself, little one, and not be speculating about my passengers, or you'll get to be another Mrs. Campbell," and, kissing both girls, he gently seated Faith in his large chair and hurried out.