Part 8 (2/2)

Mr. Willoughby had rented a house on the hill overlooking the town and decided to plant the Consulate in the front room of his residence.

Inasmuch as the Consul had a business caller about once a month, there was no need of maintaining two establishments. Already he had taken into his employ and his warmest personal friends.h.i.+p a native named Franciotto. This name seemed formal and hard to remember, so Mr.

Willoughby rechristened him ”Jim.” He liked this native in spite of his colour because he was the only man in Gallivancia who seemed to be pervaded by the simple spirit of democracy. Mr. Willoughby said that the others put on too many ”dam-lugs”--whatever that may mean.

If U.S. Consul Willoughby's social standing in Gallivancia was at all subject to doubt that doubt vanished on the day when he and ”Jim” came down to move the office effects to the house on the hill.

Mr. Willoughby did something that day which convulsed Gallivancia as it never had been convulsed before--not even when a neighbouring volcano blew off. For days afterward the official set, the men at the little club, and the women pouring tea at each other, talked of nothing else.

Many would not believe when they first heard it, but there were witnesses--reliable witnesses--who saw the whole thing and were called upon time and time again to testify regarding the most extraordinary performance of the United States Consul. Other Consuls may come and go and the years spin their weary lengths and the obliterating drift of time may hide some of the lesser events in the history of Gallivancia, but until time shall be no more the residents of that city will tell the story of ”Old Man” Willoughby, of Michigan.

What do you suppose he did? No effort of the imagination can carry you within hailing distance of the horrible truth, so let the suspense be ended. Mr. Willoughby, with his own hands, helped to move the furniture from the old Consulate up to his new residence. He put the table on top of his head and balanced it carefully and carried it through the open streets of Gallivancia! An official, a representative of a great Power, performing cheap manual labour!

[Ill.u.s.tration: _What do you suppose he did?_]

Words are altogether inadequate to describe the degree of obloquy which Mr. Willoughby earned for himself by this unheard-of exhibition. In Gallivancia it was not considered quite the thing to indulge in mental effort, and for anyone except a menial of the lowest social order to perform physical labour was almost inconceivable. The new consul was set down as either a harmless imbecile or an altogether new specimen of barbarian. In either case he was not a fit a.s.sociate for well-bred gentlemen, and Gallivancia proceeded to ignore him and ”Ma.” That is, they pretended to ignore them, but as a matter of fact, they watched them at a distance and heard daily reports of their familiarities with servants, their fondness for outlandish American cookery, and other eccentricities. It was all vastly diverting to the tiny aristocrats of Gallivancia, but it was pretty hard on Mr. and Mrs.

Willoughby--homesick, hungry for spring chicken and garden truck, and yet ashamed to pick up and go home so soon after all those elaborate good-bys.

One morning Mr. Willoughby walked out on the veranda of his hillside cottage and looked across the harbour and saw something that smote him with an overpowering joy. A white cruiser, flying the Stars and Stripes, had steamed through the narrow entrance and was bearing down to an anchorage.

”Come here, mother!” he shouted. ”Come here, if you want to see something that's good for sore eyes!”

Mrs. Willoughby came running, and nearly careened with happiness.

There it was, an American war vessel, with real Yankees on board--boys from home; boys who had been brought up to believe that a man's character and his abilities give him a worth which cannot be altered by putting a mere handle to his name. Mr. and Mrs. Willoughby were eager to go down and call on the ”folks from home.” After the prolonged boycott which had been hanging over them they were pining for white society.

Mr. Willoughby put on his long black coat and Mrs. Willoughby got out her flowered bonnet and together they went down to the water front--walked instead of going as they should have gone, in one of the decrepit local hacks. Before they could charter a humble rowboat and go out to the s.h.i.+p the Governor General and the Lord High Commander of the Scow and the Imperial Collector of Customs and all the other residents of real importance had gone out in a launch and taken charge of the naval officers. Dinner parties and a ball at the ”Palace” were arranged at once. The servant at the club hurried out and got another bottle of Scotch whiskey, and the town band began to mobilise at a cafe. Gallivancia had no use for a humble American of the Willoughby type, but it gave hysterical welcome to the splendid war vessel and the natty men in uniform. Over the first drink the Americans were told the remarkable story of the new Consul and were a.s.sured that he was a ”queer sort.” And the naval officers, being accustomed to hearing United States consuls maligned, took no further interest in their government's representative; merely shook hands with him when he came aboard, told him to make himself at home, and then flocked away to the high lights and the gayety which had been provided for them by the court circles of Gallivancia.

Mr. and Mrs. Willoughby found themselves sidetracked, and they went back home not daring to talk about what had happened. But that was the day which caused them to decide to go back to Michigan. Mr. Willoughby wrote to the State Department and said that the climate did not agree with him. And when they sailed away ”Jim” was the only person who came to the dock to bid them good-by.

As the ”Ex-Consul to Gallivancia” Mr. Willoughby is more than ever an honoured figure in his own town. Doubtless he has more gray matter, more Christian charity, and more horse sense than could be collectively a.s.sembled by all the petty officials at Gallivancia. And yet Gallivancia regarded him as a very poor excuse for a Consul. The naval officers saw in him a well-meaning ”jay” who was bringing discredit on their native land because of his ignorance of social forms.

Therefore let us send out Consuls who can put up a ”front.” Have each Consul wear the uniform of a drum major. Make sure that he can dance all night, play bridge, and keep up with the naval crowd when it comes to drinking. Let him be haughty with the serving cla.s.ses, but jovial with the military. Make sure that he is averse to all forms of labour.

Such a Consul will shed glory upon our beloved country, and will never suffer the unhappy fate of ”Old Man” Willoughby.

IN NAPLES

CHAPTER X

MR. PEASLEY AND HIS VIVID IMPRESSIONS OF FOREIGN PARTS

In Naples--and Mr. Peasley is still with us.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Mr. Peasley is still with us_]

We waited for him in London until he recovered his lost trunk, and he was so grateful that he decided to go along with us.

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