Volume I Part 6 (1/2)

”Don't,” I cried; ”don't. This woman doesn't know what dining means.

Look out a chapter on feeding.”

Let.i.tia was perfectly unruffled. She paid no attention to me whatsoever.

She was fascinated with the slovenly girl, who stood around and gaped at her Swedish.

”Gerda,” said Let.i.tia, with her eyes on the book, ”_Gif mir apven senap och nagra potater_.” And then, as Miss Lyberg dived for the drowned potatoes, Let.i.tia exclaimed in an ecstasy of joy, ”She understands, Archie, she understands. I feel I am going to be a great success. _Jag tackar_, Gerda. That means 'I thank you,' _Jag tackar_. See if you can say it, Archie. Just try, dear, to oblige me. _Jag tackar._ Now, that's a good boy, _jag tackar_.”

”I won't,” I declared spitefully. ”No _jag tackar_ing for a parody like this, Let.i.tia. You don't seem to realize that I'm hungry. Honestly, I prefer a delicatessen dinner to this.”

”'Pray, give me a piece of venison,'” read Let.i.tia, absolutely disregarding my mood. ”'_Var G.o.d och gif mig ett stycke vildt._' It is almost intelligible, isn't it, dear? '_Ni ater icke_': you do not eat.”

”I can't,” I a.s.serted mournfully, anxious to gain Let.i.tia's sympathy.

It was not forthcoming. Let.i.tia's eyes were fastened on Gerda, and I could not help noting on the woman's face an expression of scorn. I felt certain of it. She appeared to regard my wife as a sort of irresponsible freak, and I was vexed to think that Let.i.tia should make such an exhibition of herself, and countenance the alleged meal that was set before us.

”'I have really dined very well,'” she continued joyously. ”_Jag har verkligen at.i.t mycket bra._'”

”If you are quite sure that she doesn't understand English, Let.i.tia,” I said viciously, ”I'll say to you that this is a kind of joke I don't appreciate. I won't keep such a woman in the house. Let us put on our things and go out and have dinner. Better late than never.”

Let.i.tia was turning over the pages of her book, quite lost to her surroundings. As I concluded my remarks she looked up and exclaimed, ”How very funny, Archie. Just as you said 'Better late than never,' I came across that very phrase in the list of Swedish proverbs. It must be telepathy, dear. 'Better late than never,' '_Battre sent an aldrig_.'

What were you saying on the subject, dear? Will you repeat it? And do try it in Swedish. Say '_Battre sent an aldrig_.'”

”Let.i.tia,” I shot forth in a fury, ”I'm not in the humor for this sort of thing. I think this dinner and this woman are rotten. See if you can find the word rotten in Swedish.”

”I am surprised at you,” Let.i.tia declared glacially, roused from her book by my heroic though unparliamentary language. ”Your expressions are neither English nor Swedish. Please don't use such gutter-words before a servant, to say nothing of your own wife.”

”But she doesn't understand,” I protested, glancing at Miss Lyberg. I could have sworn that I detected a gleam in the woman's eyes and that the sphinx-like att.i.tude of dull incomprehensibility suggested a strenuous effort. ”She doesn't understand anything. She doesn't want to understand.”

”In a week from now,” said Let.i.tia, ”she will understand everything perfectly, for I shall be able to talk with her. Oh, Archie, do be agreeable. Can't you see that I am having great fun? Don't be such a greedy boy. If you could only enter into the spirit of the thing, you wouldn't be so oppressed by the food question. Oh, dear! How important it does seem to be to men. Gerda, _hur gammal ar ni_?”

The maiden sullenly left the room, and I felt convinced that Let.i.tia had Swedishly asked her to do so. I was wrong. ”_Hur gammal ar ni_,” Let.i.tia explained, simply meant, ”How old are you?”

”She evidently didn't want to tell me,” was my wife's comment, as we went to the drawing-room. ”I imagine, dear, that she doesn't quite like the idea of my ferreting out Swedish so persistently. But I intend to persevere. The worst of conversation books is that one acquires a language in such a parroty way. Now, in my book, the only answer to the question 'How old are you?' is, 'I was born on the tenth of August, 1852.' For the life of me, I couldn't vary that, and it would be most embarra.s.sing. It would make me fifty-two. If any one asked me in Swedish how old I was, I should _have_ to be fifty-two!”

”When I think of my five advertis.e.m.e.nts,” I said lugubriously, as I threw myself into an arm-chair, fatigued at my efforts to discover dinner, ”when I remember our expectation, and the pleasant antic.i.p.ations of to-day, I feel very bitter, Let.i.tia. Just to think that from it all nothing has resulted but that beastly mummy, that atrocious ossified thing.”

”Archie, Archie!” said my wife warningly; ”please be calm. Perhaps I was too engrossed with my studies to note the deficiencies of dinner. But do remember that I pleaded with her for a Swedish meal. The poor thing did what I asked her to do. Our dinner was evidently Swedish. It was not her fault that I asked for it. To-morrow, dear, it shall be different. We had better stick to the American regime. It is more satisfactory to you.

At any rate, we have somebody in the house, and if our five advertis.e.m.e.nts had brought forth five hundred applicants we should only have kept one. So don't torture yourself, Archie. Try and imagine that we _had_ five hundred applicants, and that we selected Gerda Lyberg.”

”I can't, Let.i.tia,” I said sulkily, and I heaved a heavy sigh.

”Come,” she said soothingly, ”come and study Swedish with me. It will be most useful for your _Lives of Great Men_. You can read up the Swedes in the original. I'll entertain you with this book, and you'll forget all about Mrs. Potz--I mean Gerda Lyberg. By-the-by, Archie, she doesn't remind me so much of Hedda Gabler. I don't fancy that she is very subtile.”

”You, Let.i.tia,” I retorted, ”remind me of Mrs. Nickleby. You ramble on so.”

Let.i.tia looked offended. She always declared that d.i.c.kens ”got on her nerves.” She was one of the new-fas.h.i.+oned readers who have learned to despise d.i.c.kens. Personally, I regretted only his nauseating sense of humor. Let.i.tia placed a cus.h.i.+on behind my head, smoothed my forehead, kissed me, made her peace, and settled down by my side. Lack of nourishment made me drowsy, and Let.i.tia's babblings sounded vague and m.u.f.fled.

”It is a most inclusive little book,” she said, ”and if I can succeed in memorizing it all I shall be quite at home with the language. In fact, dear, I think I shall always keep Swedish cooks. Hark at this: 'If the wind be favorable, we shall be at Gothenburg in forty hours.' '_Om vinden ar G.o.d, sa aro vi pa pyrtio timmar i Goteborg._' I think it is sweetly pretty. 'You are seasick.' 'Steward, bring me a gla.s.s of brandy and water.' 'We are now entering the harbor.' 'We are now anchoring.'

'Your pa.s.sports, gentlemen.'”