Part 29 (1/2)
He took his accustomed seat with a pleasant word to me. I waited.
”Feeling a mite off this morning,” he began, ”account of a lot of truck I eat yesterday. I guess I'll just take something kind of dainty. Tell Clarice to cook me up a nice little steak with plenty of fat on it, and some fried potatoes, and a cup of coffee and a few waffles to come. The Judge he wouldn't get up yet. He looked kind of mottled and anguished, but I guess he'll pull around all right. I had the c.h.i.n.k take him up about a gallon of strong tea. Say, listen here, the Judge ain't so awful much of a stayer, is he?”
Burning with curiosity I was to learn what he could tell me of the day before, yet I controlled myself to the calmest of leisurely questioning in order not to alarm him. It was too plain that he had no realization of what had occurred. It was always the way with him, I had noticed. Events the most momentous might culminate furiously about his head, but he never knew that anything had happened.
”The Honourable George,” I began, ”was with you yesterday? Perhaps he ate something he shouldn't.”
”He did, he did; he done it repeatedly. He et pretty near as much of that sauerkraut and frankfurters as the piano guy himself did, and that's some tribute, believe me, Bill! Some tribute!”
”The piano guy?” I murmured quite casually.
”And say, listen here, that guy is all right if anybody should ask you. You talk about your mixers!”
This was a bit puzzling, for of course I had never ”talked about my mixers.” I shouldn't a bit know how to go on. I ventured another query.
”Where was it this mixing and that sort of thing took place?”
”Why, up at Mis' Kenner's, where we was having a little party: frankfurters and sauerkraut and beer. My stars! but that steak looks good. I'm feeling better already.” His food was before him, and he attacked it with no end of spirit.
”Tell me quite all about it,” I amiably suggested, and after a moment's hurried devotion to the steak, he slowed up a bit to talk.
”Well, listen here, now. The Judge says to me when Eddie Pierce comes, 'Sour-dough,' he says, 'look in at Mis' Kenner's this afternoon if you got nothing else on; I fancy it will repay you.' Just like that.
'Well,' I says, 'all right, Judge, I fancy I will. I fancy I ain't got anything else on,' I says. 'And I'm always glad to go there,' I says, because no matter what they're always saying about this here Bohemian stuff, Kate Kenner is one good scout, take it from me. So in a little while I slicked up some and went on around to her house. Then hitched outside I seen Eddie Pierce's hack, and I says, 'My lands! that's a funny thing,' I says. 'I thought the Judge was going to haul this here piano guy out to the Jackson place where he could while away the tejum, like Jackson said, and now it looks as if they was here. Or mebbe it's just Eddie himself that has fancied to look in, not having anything else on.'
”Well, so anyway I go up on the stoop and knock, and when I get in the parlour there the piano guy is and the Judge and Eddie Pierce, too, Eddie helping the j.a.p around with frankfurters and sauerkraut and beer and one thing and another.
”Besides them was about a dozen of Mis' Kenner's own particular friends, all of 'em good scouts, let me tell you, and everybody laughing and ga.s.sing back and forth and cutting up and having a good time all around. Well, so as soon as they seen me, everybody says, 'Oh, here comes Sour-dough--good old Sour-dough!' and all like that, and they introduced me to the piano guy, who gets up to shake hands with me and spills his beer off the chair arm on to the wife of Eddie Fosd.i.c.k in the Farmers' and Merchants' National, and so I sat down and et with 'em and had a few steins of beer, and everybody had a good time all around.”
The wonderful man appeared to believe that he had told me quite all of interest concerning this monstrous festivity. He surveyed the mutilated remnant of his steak and said: ”I guess Clarice might as well fry me a few eggs. I'm feeling a lot better.” I directed that this be done, musing upon the dreadful menu he had recited and recalling the exquisite finish of the collation I myself had prepared.
Sausages, to be sure, have their place, and beer as well, but sauerkraut I have never been able to regard as an at all possible food for persons that really matter. Germans, to be sure!
Discreetly I renewed my inquiry: ”I dare say the Honourable George was in good form?” I suggested.
”Well, he et a lot. Him and the piano guy was bragging which could eat the most sausages.”
I was unable to restrain a shudder at the thought of this revolting contest.
”The piano guy beat him out, though. He'd been at the Palace Hotel for three meals and I guess his appet.i.te was right craving.”
”And afterward?”
”Well, it was like Jackson said: this lad wanted to while away the tejum of a Sunday afternoon, and so he whiled it, that's all. Purty soon Mis' Kenner set down to the piano and sung some c.o.o.n songs that tickled him most to death, and then she got to playing ragtime--say, believe me, Bill, when she starts in on that rag stuff she can make a piano simply stutter itself to death.
{Ill.u.s.tration: MIS' KENNER SET DOWN TO THE PIANO AND SUNG SOME c.o.o.n SONGS THAT TICKLED HIM MOST TO DEATH}
”Well, at that the piano guy says it's great stuff, and so he sets down himself to try it, and he catches on pretty good, I'll say that for him, so we got to dancing while he plays for us, only he don't remember the tunes good and has to fake a lot. Then he makes Mis'
Kenner play again while he dances with Mis' Fosd.i.c.k that he spilled the beer on, and after that we had some more beer and this guy et another plate of kraut and a few sausages, and Mis' Kenner sings 'The Robert E. Lee' and a couple more good ones, and the guy played some more ragtime himself, trying to get the tunes right, and then he played some fancy pieces that he'd practised up on, and we danced some and had a few more beers, with everybody laughing and cutting up and having a nice home afternoon.
”Well, the piano guy enjoyed himself every minute, if anybody asks you, being lit up like a main chandelier. They made him feel like he was one of their own folks. You certainly got to hand it to him for being one little good mixer. Talk about whiling away the tejum! He done it, all right, all right. He whiled away so much tejum there he darned near missed his train. Eddie Pierce kept telling him what time it was, only he'd keep asking Mis' Kenner to play just one more rag, and at last we had to just shoot him into his fur overcoat while he was kissing all the women on their hands, and we'd have missed the train at that if Eddie hadn't poured the leather into them skates of his all the way down to the dee-po. He just did make it, and he told the Judge and Eddie and me that he ain't had such a good time since he left home. I kind of hated to see him go.”