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Under the eucalyptus tree one morning Merton Gill, making some appetizing changes in the fifth reel of Eating at Gashwiler's, was accosted by a youngish woman whom he could not at first recall. She had come from the casting office and paused when she saw him. "Hello, I thought it was you, but I wasn't sure in them clothes. How they coming?"
"Me either," said Merton Gill, struggling against the obsession of Saturday-night dinner at Gashwiler's. Grimly he resumed his seat when the girl with a friendly "So long!" had trudged on. In spite of himself he found something base in his nature picturing his return to the emporium and to the thrice-daily encounter with Metta Judson's cookery.
On the screen he capably beamed the fondest admiration, almost reverent in its intensity and there would appear the still of Merton bidding an emotional farewell to his horse. The very novelty of it held him for a moment Gashwiler's Dexter actually on the screen! He was aroused by the hearty laughter of an immense audience. "It's Parmalee," announced a hoarse neighbour on his right.
Gashwiler instantly forgot his theme, began to ply the lady with a certain bovine-like gallantry, which it is to be said to her credit she parried with a playful, terrier-like dexterity, when the servant suddenly announced, "Mr. Wiles." Gashwiler started. Not so Mrs. Hopkinson, who, however, prudently and quietly removed her own chair several inches from Gashwiler's. "Do you know Mr.
Gashwiler's was not there. Its hideous contrasts had offended her woman's eye, it is observable that good taste survives the wreck of all the other feminine virtues, and she had distributed it to make boutonnieres for other gentlemen. Yet, when he appeared, she said to him hastily, putting her little hand over the cardiac region: "I'm so glad you came. But you gave me SUCH a fright an hour ago."
And though Gashwiler's delivery horse is not a pinto, and could hardly get over the border ahead of a sheriff's posse, the scene is affecting. "Good-by, again, old pal, and God bless ye!" sobs Merton. Merton Gill mealed at the Gashwiler home. He ate his supper in moody silence, holding himself above the small gossip of the day that engaged Amos and his wife.
What to him meant the announcement that Amos expected a new line of white goods on the morrow, or Mrs. Gashwiler's version of a regrettable incident occurring at that afternoon's meeting of the Entre Nous Five Hundred Club, in which the score had been juggled adversely to Mrs. Gashwiler, resulting in the loss of the first prize, a handsome fern dish, and concerning which Mrs.
Ten minutes before Wiles would have remained seated; but it is recorded that he rose, took the bottle from the gifted Gashwiler's fingers, helped himself FIRST, and then sat down.
He was doing well, although such was the value set upon his friend Gashwiler's abilities by his brother members that he was almost always occupied with committee business. I noticed that his clothes were not in as good case as before, and he told me that he had left the hotel, and taken lodgings in a by-street, where it was less expensive. Temporarily of course.
I would not for the sake of his family say anything, but I have missed, sir, books from my library. I had difficulty, sir, great difficulty in keeping it from the papers!" As Mr. Wiles had heard the story already from Gashwiler's acquaintances, with more or less free comment on the gifted legislator's economy, he could not help thinking that the difficulty had been great indeed.