Part 13 (2/2)

Cricklewick had been brought up in, or on, the very best of society.

From his earliest days as third groom in the Camelford menage to the end of his reign as major-domo, he had been in a position to observe and a.s.similate the manners of the elect. No one knew better than he how to go about being a gentleman. He had had his lessons, not to say examples, from the first gentlemen of England. Having been brought up on dukes and earls,--and all that sort of thing,--to say nothing of quite a majority in the House of Lords, he was in a fair way of knowing ”what's what,” to use his own far from original expression.

You couldn't fool Cricklewick to save your life. The instant he looked upon you he could put you where you belonged, and, so far as he was concerned, that was where you would have to stay.

It is doubtful if there was ever a more discerning, more discriminating butler in all England. It was his rather astonis.h.i.+ng contention that one could be quite at one's ease with dukes and d.u.c.h.esses and absolutely ill-at-ease with ordinary people. That was his way of making the distinction. It wasn't possible to be on terms of intimacy with the people who didn't belong. They never seemed to know their place.

The next thing he knew, after the Hot Springs visit, his name began to appear in the newspapers in columns next to advertising matter instead of the other way round. Up to this time it had been a struggle to get it in next to reading matter on account of the exorbitant rates demanded by the newspapers.

He protested to his wife. ”Oh, I say, my dear, this is cutting it a bit thick, you know. You can't really be in earnest about it. I shouldn't know how to act sitting down at a dinner table like that, you know. I am informed that these people are regarded as real swells over 'ere,--here, I should say. You must sit down and drop 'em a line saying we can't come. Say we've suddenly been called out of town, or had bad news from home, or--”

”Rubbis.h.!.+ It will do them no end of good to see how you act at table.

Haven't you had the very best of training? All you have to do--”

”But I had it standing, my dear.”

”Just the same, I shall accept the invitation. They are very excellent people, and I see no reason why we shouldn't know the best while we're about it.”

”But they've got millions,” he expostulated.

”Well,” said she, ”you musn't believe everything you hear about people with millions. I must say that I've not seen anything especially vulgar about them. So don't let that stand in your way, old dear.” It was unconscious irony.

”It hasn't been a great while since I was a butler, my love; don't forget that. A matter of a little over seven years.”

”Pray do not forget,” said she coldly, ”that it hasn't been so very long since all these people over here were Indians.”

Mr. Cricklewick, being more or less hazy concerning overseas history, took heart. They went to the dinner and he, remembering just how certain n.o.blemen of his acquaintance deported themselves, got on famously. And although his wife never had seen a d.u.c.h.ess eat, except by proxy in the theatre, she left nothing to be desired,--except, perhaps, in the way of food, of which she was so fond that it was rather a bore to nibble as d.u.c.h.esses do.

Being a sensible and far-seeing woman, she did not resent it when he mildly protested that Lady So-and-So wouldn't have done this, and the d.u.c.h.ess of You-Know wouldn't have done that. She looked upon him as a master in the School of Manners. It was not long before she was able not only to hold her own with the elite, but also to hold her lorgnette with them. If she did not care to see you in a crowd she could overlook you in the very smartest way.

And so, after twenty or twenty-five years, we find the Cricklewicks,--mother, father and daughter,--substantially settled in the City of Masks, occupying an enviable position in society, and seldom, if ever,--even in the bosom of the family,--referring to the days of long ago,--a precaution no doubt inspired by the fear that they might be overheard and misunderstood by their own well-trained and admirable butler, whose respect they could not afford to lose.

Once a week, on Wednesday nights, Mr. Cricklewick took off his mask. It was, in a sense, his way of going to confession. He told his wife, however, that he was going to the club.

He sighed a little more briskly as he turned away from the window and crossed over to the closet in which his fur-lined coat and silk hat were hanging. It had taken time and a great deal of persuasion on the part of his wife to prove to him that it wasn't quite the thing to wear a silk hat with a sack coat in New York; he had grudgingly compromised with the barbaric demands of fas.h.i.+on by dispensing with the sack coat in favour of a cutaway. The silk hat was a fixture.

”A lady asking to see you, sir,” said his office-boy, after knocking on the door marked ”Private.”

”Hold my coat for me, Thomas,” said Mr. Cricklewick.

”Yes, sir,” said Thomas. ”But she says you will see her, sir, just as soon as you gets a look at her.”

”Obviously,” said Mr. Cricklewick, shaking himself down into the great coat. ”Don't rub it the wrong way, you simpleton. You should always brush a silk hat with the nap and not--”

”May I have a few words with you, Mr. Cricklewick?” inquired a sweet, clear voice from the doorway.

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