A Voyage of Consolation by Sara Jeannette Duncan (best way to read books .TXT) 📕

we're here. But I consider that we've got the article in very good shape in our little town over there in Illinois, and personally I don't propose to go nosing round after it in Europe. And as a family man I should hate to be divided up for any such purpose."

"Oh, if you're going to steel yourself against it, my love----"

"Now, what Bramley said to me the day before we sailed was this--No, I'm not steeling myself against it; my every pore is open to it--Bramley said: 'Your time is limited, you can't see everything. Very well. See the unique. Keep that in mind,' he said; 'the unique. And you'll be surprised to find how very little there is in the world, outside Chicago, that is unique.'"

"Applying that rule," continued the Senator, strolling up and down, "the things to see in London are the Crystal Palace and the Albert Memorial. Especially the Albert Memorial. That was a man who played second fiddle to his wife, and enjoyed it, all his life long; and there he sits in Hyde Park to-day, I understand, still receiving the respectful homage of the nation--the only case on record."

"Westminster Abbey would be much better _for_ you," said momma.

"Don't you think," I put in, "that if momma is to get any sleep----"

"Certainly. Now, another thing that Bramley said was, 'Look here,' he said, 'remember the Unattainable Elsewhere--and get it. You're likely to be in London. Now the Unattainable Elsewhere, for that town, is gentlemen's suitings. For style, price, and quality of goods the London tailor leads the known universe. Wick,' he said--he was terribly in earnest--'if you have _one hour_ in London, leave your measure!'"

"In that case," said momma, sitting up and ascertaining the condition of her hair, "you would like me to be with you, love."

Now, if momma doesn't like poppa's clothes, she always gives them away without telling him. This would be thought arbitrary in England, and I have certainly known the Senator suddenly reduced to great destitution through it, but America is a free country, and there is no law to compel us to see our male relations unbecomingly clad against our will.

"Well, to tell the truth, Augusta," said poppa, "I would. I'd like to get this measure through by a unanimous vote. It will save complications afterwards. But are you sure you wouldn't rather lie down?"

Momma replied to the effect that she wouldn't mind his going anywhere else alone, but this was important. She put her gloves on as she spoke, and her manner expressed that she was equal to any personal sacrifice for the end in view.

Colonel Bramley had given the Senator a sartorial address of repute, and presently the hansom drew up before it, in Piccadilly. We went about as a family in one hansom for sociability.

"Look here, driver," said poppa through the roof, "have we got there?"

The cabman, in a dramatic and resentful manner, pointed out the number with his whip.

"There's the address as was given to _me_, sir."

"Well, there's nothing to get mad about," said poppa sternly. "I'm looking for Marcus Trippit, tailor and outfitter."

"It's all right, sir. All on the brass plite on the door, sir. I can see it puffickly from 'ere."

The cabman seemed appeased, but his tone was still remonstrative.

We all looked at the door with the brass plate. It was flanked on one side by the offices of a house agent, on the other by a superior looking restaurant.

"There isn't the sign of a tailor about the premises," said poppa, "except his name. I don't like the look of that."

"Perhaps," suggested momma, "it's his private address."

"Well, I guess we don't want to call on Marcus, especially as we've got no proper introduction. Driver, that isn't Mr. Trippit's place of business. It's his home."

We all craned up at the hole in the roof at once, like young birds, and we all distinctly saw the driver smile.

"No, sir, I don't think 'e'd put it up like that that 'e was a tyler, not on 'is privit residence, sir. I think you'll find the business premises on the fust or second floor, likely."

"Where's his window?" the Senator demanded. "Where's his display? No, I don't think Marcus will do for me. I'm not confiding enough. Now, _you_ don't happen to be able to recommend a tailor, do you?"

"Yes, sir, I can take you to a gentleman that'll turn you out as 'andsome as need be. Out 'Ampstead way, '_e_ is."

The Senator smiled. "About a three-and-sixpenny fare, eh?" he said.

"Yes, sir, all of that."

"I thought so. I don't mind the three and sixpence. You can't do much driving where I come from under a dollar; but we've only got about twenty-four hours for the British capital altogether, and I can't spare the time."

"Suppose he drives along slowly," suggested momma.

"Just so. Drive along slowly until you come to a tailor that has a shop, do you see? And a good-sized window, with waxwork figures in it to show off the goods. Then let me hear from you again."

The man's expression changed to one of cheerfulness and benignity. "Right you are, sir," he said, and shut down the door in a manner that suggested entire appreciation of the circumstances.

"I think we can trust him," said poppa. Inside, therefore, we gave ourselves up to enjoyment of what momma called the varied panorama around us; while, outside, the cabman passed in critical review half the gentleman's outfitters in London. It was momma who finally brought him to a halt, and the establishment which inspired her with confidence and emulation was inscribed in neat, white enamelled letters, _Court Tailors_.

As we entered, a person of serious appearance came forward from the rear, by no means eagerly or inquiringly, but with a grave step and a great deal of deportment. I fancy he looked at momma and me with slight surprise; then, with his hands calmly folded and his head a little on one side, he gave his attention to the Senator. But it was momma who broke the silence.

"We wish," said momma, "to look at gentlemen's suitings."

"Yes, madam, certainly. Is it for--for----" He hesitated in the embarrassed way only affected in the very best class of establishments, and I felt at ease at once as to the probable result.

"For this gentleman," said momma, with a wave of her hand.

The Senator, being indicated, acknowledged it. "Yes," he said, "I'm your subject. But there's just one thing I want to say. I haven't got any use for a Court suit, because where I live we haven't got any use for Courts. My idea would be something aristocratic in quality but democratic in cut--the sort of thing you would make up for a member of Mr. Gladstone's family. Do I make myself clear?"

"Certainly, sir. Ordinary morning dress, sir, or is it evening dress, or both? Will you kindly step this way, sir?"

"We will all step this way," said momma.

"It would be a morning coat and waistcoat then, sir, would it not? And trousers of a different--somewhat lighter----"

"Well, no," the Senator replied. "Something I could wear around pretty much all day."

My calm regard forbade the gentleman's outfitter to smile, even in the back of his head.

"I think I understand, sir. Now, here is something that is being a good deal worn just now. Beautiful finish."

"Nothing brownish, thank you," said momma, with decision.

"No, madam? Then perhaps you would prefer this, sir. More on the iron gray, sir."

"That would certainly be more becoming," said momma. "And I like that invisible line. But it's rather too woolly. I'm afraid it wouldn't keep its appearance. What do you think, Mamie?"

"Oh, there's no _wool_liness, madam." The gentleman's outfitter's tone implied that wool was the last thing he would care to have anything to do with. "It's the nap. And as to the appearance of these goods"--he smiled slightly--"well, we put our reputation on them, that's all. I can't say more than that. But I have the same thing in a smooth finish, if you would prefer it."

"I think I would prefer it. Wouldn't you, Mamie?"

The man brought the same thing in a smooth finish, and looked interrogatively at poppa.

"Oh, I prefer it, too," said he, with a profound assumption of intelligent interest. "Were you thinking of having the pants made of the same material, Augusta?"

The gentleman's outfitter suddenly turned his back, and stood thus for an instant struggling with something like a spasm. Knowing that if there's one thing in the world momma hates it's the exhibition of poppa's sense of humour, I walked to the door. When I came back they were measuring the Senator.

"Will you have the American shoulder, sir? Most of our customers prefer it."

"Well, no. The English shoulder would be more of a novelty on me. You see I come from the United States myself."

"Do you indeed, sir?"

The manners of some tailors might be emulated in England.

"Tails are a little longer than they were, sir, and waistcoats cut a trifle higher. Not more than half an inch in both cases, sir, but it does make a difference. Now, with reference to the coat, sir; will you have it finished with braid or not? Silk braid, of course, sir."

"Augusta?" demanded the Senator.

"Is braid _de nouveau_?" asked momma.

"Not precisely, madam, but the Prince certainly has worn it this season while he didn't last."

"Do you refer to Wales?" asked poppa.

"Yes, sir. He's very generally mentioned simply as 'The Prince.' His Royal Highness is very conservative, so to speak, about such things, so when he takes up a style we generally count on its lasting at least through one season. I can assure you, sir, the Prince has appeared in braid. You needn't be afraid to order it."

"I think," put in momma, "that braid would make a very neat finish, love."

Poppa walked slowly towards the door, considering the matter. With his hand on the knob he turned round.

"No," he said, "I don't think that's reason enough for me. We're both men in public positions, but I've got nothing in common with Wales. I'll have a plain hem."


CHAPTER IV.

"If there's one thing I hate," said Senator Wick several times in the discussion of our plans, "it's to see a citizen of the United States going round advertising himself. If you analyse it, it's a mean thing to do, for it's no more a virtue to be born American than a fault to be born anything else. I'm proud of my nationality and my income is a source of satisfaction to me, but I don't intend to brandish either of them in the face of Europe."

It was this principle that had induced poppa to buy tourist tickets second class by rail, first class by steamer, all through, like ordinary English people on eight or nine hundred a year. Momma and I thought it rather noble of him and resolved to live up to it if possible, but when he brought forth a large packet of hotel coupons, guaranteed to produce everything, including the deepest respect of the proprietors, at ten shillings and sixpence a day apiece, we thought he was making an unnecessary sacrifice to the feelings of the non-American travelling public.

"Two dollars and a half a day!"