Ruggles of Red Gap Part 6

"Not a thing on earth. My appet.i.te ain't been so powerful craving since Heck was a pup."

These were their actual words, though it may not be believed. The Tuttle person now approached his cabman, who had waited beside the curb.

"Say, Frank," he began, "Ally restorong," and this he supplemented with a crude but informing pantomime of one eating. Cousin Egbert was already seated in the cab, and I could do nothing but follow. "Ally restorong!" commanded our new friend in a louder tone, and the cabman with an explosion of understanding drove rapidly off.

"It's a genuine wonder to me how you learned the language so quick,"

said Cousin Egbert.

"It's all in the accent," protested the other. I occupied a narrow seat in the front. Facing me in the back seat, they lolled easily and smoked their cigars. Down the thronged boulevard we proceeded at a rapid pace and were pa.s.sing presently before an immense gray edifice which I recognized as the so-called Louvre from its ill.u.s.tration on the cover of Cousin Egbert's art book. He himself regarded it with interest, though I fancy he did not recognize it, for, waving his cigar toward it, he announced to his friend:

"The Public Library." His friend surveyed the building with every sign of approval.

"That Carnegie is a hot sport, all right," he declared warmly. "I'll bet that shack set him back some."

"Three rousing cheers!" said Cousin Egbert, without point that I could detect.

We now crossed their Thames over what would have been Westminster Bridge, I fancy, and were presently bowling through a sort of Battersea part of the city. The streets grew quite narrow and the shops smaller, and I found myself wondering not without alarm what sort of restaurant our abrupt friend had chosen.

"Three rousing cheers!" said Cousin Egbert from time to time, with almost childish delight.

Debouching from a narrow street again into what the French term a boulevard, we halted before what was indeed a restaurant, for several tables were laid on the pavement before the door, but I saw at once that it was anything but a nice place. "Au Rendezvous des Cochers Fideles," read the announcement on the flap of the awning, and truly enough it was a low resort frequented by cabbies--"The meeting-place of faithful coachmen." Along the curb half a score of horses were eating from their bags, while their drivers lounged before the place, eating, drinking, and conversing excitedly in their grotesque jargon.

We descended, in spite of the repellent aspect of the place, and our driver went to the foot of the line, where he fed his own horse.

Cousin Egbert, already at one of the open-air tables, was rapping smartly for a waiter.

"What's the matter with having just one little one before grub?" asked the Tuttle person as we joined him. He had a most curious fashion of speech. I mean to say, when he suggested anything whatsoever he invariably wished to know what might be the matter with it.

"Veesky-soda!" demanded Cousin Egbert of the serving person who now appeared, "and ask your driver to have one," he then urged his friend.

The latter hereupon addressed the cabman who had now come up.

"Vooley-voos take something!" he demanded, and the cabman appeared to accept.

"Vooley-voos your friends take something, too?" he demanded further, with a gesture that embraced all the cabmen present, and these, too, appeared to accept with the utmost cordiality.

"You're a wonder, Jeff," said Cousin Egbert. "You talk it like a professor."

"It come natural to me," said the fellow, "and it's a good thing, too.

If you know a little French you can go all over Europe without a bit of trouble."

Inside the place was all activity, for many cabmen were now accepting the proffered hospitality, and calling "votry santy!" to their host, who seemed much pleased. Then to my amazement Cousin Egbert insisted that our cabman should sit at table with us. I trust I have as little foolish pride as most people, but this did seem like crowding it on a bit thick. In fact, it looked rather d.i.c.ky. I was glad to remember that we were in what seemed to be the foreign quarter of the town, where it was probable that no one would recognize us. The drink came, though our cabman refused the whiskey and secured a bottle of native wine.

"Three rousing cheers!" said Cousin Egbert as we drank once more, and added as an afterthought, "What a beautiful world we live in!"

"Vooley-voos make-um bring dinner!" said the Tuttle person to the cabman, who thereupon spoke at length in his native tongue to the waiter. By this means we secured a soup that was not half bad and presently a stew of mutton which Cousin Egbert declared was "some goo." To my astonishment I ate heartily, even in such raffish surroundings. In fact, I found myself pigging it with the rest of them. With coffee, cigars were brought from the tobacconist's next-door, each cabman present accepting one. Our own man was plainly feeling a vast pride in his party, and now circulated among his fellows with an account of our merits.

"This is what I call life," said the Tuttle person, leaning back in his chair.

"I'm coming right back here every day," declared Cousin Egbert happily.

"What's the matter with a little drive to see some well-known objects of interest?" inquired his friend.

"Not art galleries," insisted Cousin Egbert.

"And not churches," said his friend. "Every day's been Sunday with me long enough."

"And not clothing stores," said Cousin Egbert firmly. "The Colonel here is awful fussy about my clothes," he added.

"Is, heh?" inquired his friend. "How do you like this hat of mine?" he asked, turning to me. It was that sudden I nearly fluffed the catch, but recovered myself in time.

"I should consider it a hat of sound wearing properties, sir," I said.

He took it off, examined it carefully, and replaced it.

"So far, so good," he said gravely. "But why be fussy about clothes when G.o.d has given you only one life to live?"

"Don't argue about religion," warned Cousin Egbert.

"I always like to see people well dressed, sir," I said, "because it makes such a difference in their appearance."

He slapped his thigh fiercely. "My gosh! that's true. He's got you there, Sour-dough. I never thought of that."

"He makes me wear these chest-protectors on my ankles," said Cousin Egbert bitterly, extending one foot.

"What's the matter of taking a little drive to see some well-known objects of interest?" said his friend.

"Not art galleries," said Cousin Egbert firmly.

"We said that before--and not churches."

"And not gents' furnishing goods."

"You said that before."

"Well, you said not churches before."

"Well, what's the matter with taking a little drive?"

"Not art galleries," insisted Cousin Egbert. The thing seemed interminable. I mean to say, they went about the circle as before. It looked to me as if they were having a bit of a spree.

"We'll have one last drink," said the Tuttle person.

"No," said Cousin Egbert firmly, "not another drop. Don't you see the condition poor Bill here is in?" To my amazement he was referring to me. Candidly, he was attempting to convey the impression that I had taken a drop too much. The other regarded me intently.

"Pickled," he said.

"Always affects him that way," said Cousin Egbert. "He's got no head for it."