Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 130: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

address. of a restaurant he could recom- mend. ' Mr. Chedworth was now setting out for this restaurant, and that was why he looked both expectant and apprehensive. For this , was the first time in all his life that he had ever contemplated lunching appropriately in that delectable region known as “ Up West.” He had snatched hurried, arid lit- tle meals in cheap teashops in Oxford Street and the Strand before now, when the exigencies of business and hunger had synchronized with his presence in the neigh- borhood. But this was to be a real, slap-up, elaborate affair, and, though he assured himself that he was going to enjoy it, he knew that the ordering and consuming of it presented ordeals which would perplex and embarrass his sensitive, shy little soul. + But he had made up his mind to go through with this lunch. He agreed with the senior partner that it was the one. right, fitting way to signalize the beginning of his new life of affluent leisure. Here was luxury within his reach after years of carking, unremitting economy, and he must welcome it in the time honored way with the ritual of food and drink. What was more, he was going to do the thing properly, with no stint, and with all the correct, high preliminaries and conse- quences. He intended to take a taxicab to the restaurant, to go on afterward to a theater, where amusement might charm his mind and assist his digestion. And after- ward—home and Mrs. Chedworth and the children and the stress and strain of bicker- ing domesticity as a corrective. | A man was selling violets at the corner of Flaming Sword Lane, and Mr. Ched- worth, after a little hesitation, bought a bunch of them, because it seemed to him that the circumstances demanded a but- -tonhole as outward and visible expression of festive intents. ‘‘ Mustn’t go home wearing ’em, though,” he reminded himself. He knew the devastating criticism that would greet his appearance at home with a bunch of violets in his lapel. His wife would want to know why he bought them, and where, and how much he paid for them, and then she would begin to talk ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. about economy and drag in mention of boots that needed repairing and crockery that needed renewing. And all the four children would be listening—Gladys in her quiet, lethargic way, and Cedric with a grin’ on his sallow face; and Kathleen would stop her piano practicing, and young Nor- man would probably ask a silly question or two about violets and buttonholes on pur- pose to egg his mother on. No, it wouldn’t do to take his button- hole home with him. He would drop it somewhere on his way back. He hoped they would be picked up by some one who liked violets as much as he did, and who would be pleased to find them so fresh. He stood at the edge of the pavement in an effort to secure the taxicab, which - was to be the first of the day’s luxuries, Empty cabs passed him this way and that, at frequent intervals, but none stopped at his timid beckoning. Most of the drivers made it clear that they did not want to : notice his summons—two or three of them, slackening speed, glanced at his shabby, insignificant little figure and shook their heads contemptuously, and drove on. So at last he had perforce to swarm on a bus and travel westward between am irate stout lady and a snuffy old gentleman who kept - grunting and wriggling aggressively. It was something of a come-down, but Mr. Ched- worth felt the pressure of his plump wallet against his breast and he found it wonder- fully stimulating. And presently he dismounted from the bus and found his way to the desired res- taurant. Twice he approached the portal and then shied and drifted past it. But the third time he approached the entrance he became involved in some way with a large, hilarious party descending from taxi- cabs. Yielding himself to the line of least resistance, he was swept with this happy crowd through the door and into the lounge of the restaurant. “So far, so good,” murmured Mr, Chedwick thankfully, and then perceived that a uniformed porter was scrutinizing him with a suspicious eye. - “Lunch!” said Mr. Chedworth firmly to the fellow, though inwardly he was ina =< tremor, Comicidooksncom