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I can see that this is going to be a busy meal. Charles, if that bottle of Pommery 1904 is iced just to the degree I like it, let it be served, if you please, in the large sized glasses. Now, Norgate." "What I am going to relate to you," Norgate began, leaning across the table and speaking very earnestly, "is a little incident which happened to me on my way back from Berlin.
"I'm only going to be with you for a few days," I answered. "Mr. Jefferson will be your permanent manager." "The hell I will!" spluttered Bunch. Then he got red in the face, glared at Dodo, and grouched out a "beg pardon!" "You betcher sweet!" she replied, patting the Pommery.
But there was no harm I asking Armour to dine with me; I sent the note off by messenger after breakfast and told the steward to put a magnum of Pommery to cool at seven precisely. I had some idea, I suppose, of drinking with Armour to his eternal discomfiture. Then I went to the office with a mind cleared of responsibility and comfortably pervaded with the glow of good intentions.
The Master's curt syllables, however, instantly dispelled any illusions he might have entertained on that score. "Drop them all out that open window, there," commanded the Master. "What, sir? Good Pommery? Veuve?" "No argument, Bohannan! Out they go!" Dismayed, the Celt did the other's bidding, while Alden smiled grimly. Far below, glass crashed and jangled.
A maid appeared with a tray of eatables, and presently another with a tray on which were glasses and a bottle of Pommery sec. "Miss Clara's compliments," she said. "What do you think now?" asked Mrs. Benson, laughing. "Distinctly a distinction, I should say," he replied. "Das ist nicht so schlecht," grunted Herr Schlitz as he put half a pâté into his mouth, "bot I vould brefer beer."
Pocock at last could bear it no longer and asked John to dinner. Over a bottle of Pommery Sec he confided his passion, and hinted that John was the obstacle to his wooing. Harrington raised his eyebrows, smiled, wished Vancouver all success, and left Newport the next day.
It was broken only by a loud gulp from the hysterical-looking girl who was, it seemed, nervously affected by an imitative spasm, and who suddenly began to swallow nothing with extreme persistence and violence. "Look at that poor misguided soul!" ejaculated Mrs. Harriet, with her lips to the Pommery. "She fancies she's drinking!"
To his indescribable astonishment, the man only said "Certainly, sir!" and went away apparently to get it. "What will you drink?" resumed Gregory, with the same careless yet apologetic air. "I shall only have a crepe de menthe myself; I have dined. But the champagne can really be trusted. Do let me start you with a half-bottle of Pommery at least?" "Thank you!" said the motionless Syme.
With kindest regards, BUNCH. P. S. Don't drag Aunt Flora into any literary discussions she might hand you something. Her favorite author is Pommery Sec., the chap who writes all those frothy books. "I wish you could have seen our place in the day-time," Peaches was saying to Skinski when I finished reading Bunch's get-back. "We think it's delightful out here.
I tell you fellows, I truly believe we'll have that wretched document in our hands by this time to-morrow." "The day I see it in ashes," Bardsley muttered, "I'll stand you fellows a magnum of Pommery '92." "I wonder," Weiss remarked, "what sort of terms she is on with her cousin, the little girl with the big eyes." "I wish to Heaven one of you could make friends with that child!"
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