said. "Have you seen Beach?"
"Just been chatting with him. Why?"
"I have been ringing for him for half an hour. He really is quite past his duties."
"Clarence was telling me that that was how you felt about him. He said you were thinking of firing him."
“I am.”
"I shouldn't."
"What do you mean?"
"You'll rue the day."
"I don't understand you."
"Then let me tell you a little bedtime story."
"Please do not drivel, Galahad. Really I sometimes think that you have less sense than Clarence."
"It is a story," Gaily proceeded, ignoring the slur, "of a feudal devotion to the family interests which it would be hard to overpraise. It shows Beach in so favourable a light that I think you will agree that when you speak of giving him the heave-ho you are talking, if you will forgive me saying so, through the back of your neck."
"Have you been drinking, Galahad?"
"Only a series of toasts to a butler who will go down in legend and song. Here comes the story."
He told it well, omitting no detail however slight, and as his narrative unfolded an ashen pallor spread over Lady Constance's face and she began to gulp in a manner which would have interested any doctor specializing in ailments of the thoracic cavity.
"So there you are," said Gaily, concluding. "Even if you are not touched by his selfless service and lost in admiration of his skill in slipping Micky Finns into people's drinks, you must realize that it would be madness to hand him the pink slip. You can't afford to have him spreading the tale of Clarence's activities all over the county, and you know as well as I do that, if sacked, he will dine out on the thing for months. If I were you, Connie, I would reconsider."
He eyed the wreck of what had once been a fine upstanding sister with satisfaction. He could read the message of those gulps, and could see that she was reconsidering.
Our Man in America
One of the disadvantages you fellows have who live in England and don't see the New York papers regularly is that you miss a lot of interesting stuff. I don't suppose, for instance, that any of you have been able to follow the Fooshe-Harris case, have you? It culminated in the headline in the press:
WOMAN WHO CAME TO DINNER DEPARTS AFTER 11- YEAR STAY
and the ensuing brief announcement:
St. Louis, April 30. Mrs. Eleanor Elaine Lee Harris, who stretched a dinner invitation into an eleven-year stay at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Fuller Fooshe of this city, packed up and departed today on a judge's order. The Fooshes, who are now separated, joined in the eviction suit against her.
Now one can understand that correspondence which has been going on so long between Worried (St. Louis) and Loretta Biggs Tuttle, the well-known adviser on social etiquette whose column is so widely syndicated.
October 10, 1947
Dear Loretta Biggs Tuttle,—I am hoping that you will be able to tell me what to do in a case like this, for I have no mother to advise me.
Here are the facts very briefly. On April 14, 1944, I was in vited to dinner by some friends of mine... well, I suppose they were more acquaintances at that time...and it was all most enjoyable. My host and hostess could not have been more charming. But now that I have been with them three years and six months something seems to have happened. Their manner has changed. I do my best to be bright and entertaining, and have even gone to the trouble of learning a few simple card tricks, but they keep falling into long silences and Mr. F., my host, groans a good deal. Do you think that without knowing it I can have done something to offend them?
(You must not be so sensitive, Worried. We are all a little inclined to be diffident and to think ourselves responsible when some trifling thing goes wrong. There are a hundred reasons why Mr. F. should groan ... high taxation, increased cost of living, heavy day at the office and so on. As for the long silences, so many people go into long silences
"Just been chatting with him. Why?"
"I have been ringing for him for half an hour. He really is quite past his duties."
"Clarence was telling me that that was how you felt about him. He said you were thinking of firing him."
“I am.”
"I shouldn't."
"What do you mean?"
"You'll rue the day."
"I don't understand you."
"Then let me tell you a little bedtime story."
"Please do not drivel, Galahad. Really I sometimes think that you have less sense than Clarence."
"It is a story," Gaily proceeded, ignoring the slur, "of a feudal devotion to the family interests which it would be hard to overpraise. It shows Beach in so favourable a light that I think you will agree that when you speak of giving him the heave-ho you are talking, if you will forgive me saying so, through the back of your neck."
"Have you been drinking, Galahad?"
"Only a series of toasts to a butler who will go down in legend and song. Here comes the story."
He told it well, omitting no detail however slight, and as his narrative unfolded an ashen pallor spread over Lady Constance's face and she began to gulp in a manner which would have interested any doctor specializing in ailments of the thoracic cavity.
"So there you are," said Gaily, concluding. "Even if you are not touched by his selfless service and lost in admiration of his skill in slipping Micky Finns into people's drinks, you must realize that it would be madness to hand him the pink slip. You can't afford to have him spreading the tale of Clarence's activities all over the county, and you know as well as I do that, if sacked, he will dine out on the thing for months. If I were you, Connie, I would reconsider."
He eyed the wreck of what had once been a fine upstanding sister with satisfaction. He could read the message of those gulps, and could see that she was reconsidering.
Our Man in America
One of the disadvantages you fellows have who live in England and don't see the New York papers regularly is that you miss a lot of interesting stuff. I don't suppose, for instance, that any of you have been able to follow the Fooshe-Harris case, have you? It culminated in the headline in the press:
WOMAN WHO CAME TO DINNER DEPARTS AFTER 11- YEAR STAY
and the ensuing brief announcement:
St. Louis, April 30. Mrs. Eleanor Elaine Lee Harris, who stretched a dinner invitation into an eleven-year stay at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Fuller Fooshe of this city, packed up and departed today on a judge's order. The Fooshes, who are now separated, joined in the eviction suit against her.
Now one can understand that correspondence which has been going on so long between Worried (St. Louis) and Loretta Biggs Tuttle, the well-known adviser on social etiquette whose column is so widely syndicated.
October 10, 1947
Dear Loretta Biggs Tuttle,—I am hoping that you will be able to tell me what to do in a case like this, for I have no mother to advise me.
Here are the facts very briefly. On April 14, 1944, I was in vited to dinner by some friends of mine... well, I suppose they were more acquaintances at that time...and it was all most enjoyable. My host and hostess could not have been more charming. But now that I have been with them three years and six months something seems to have happened. Their manner has changed. I do my best to be bright and entertaining, and have even gone to the trouble of learning a few simple card tricks, but they keep falling into long silences and Mr. F., my host, groans a good deal. Do you think that without knowing it I can have done something to offend them?
(You must not be so sensitive, Worried. We are all a little inclined to be diffident and to think ourselves responsible when some trifling thing goes wrong. There are a hundred reasons why Mr. F. should groan ... high taxation, increased cost of living, heavy day at the office and so on. As for the long silences, so many people go into long silences
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