The Spenders: A Tale of the Third GenerationWilson, Harry Leon
General
The Spenders: A Tale of the Third Generation
Wilson, Harry Leon
Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
"Corn-beef and cabbage was pretty good then, eh?" and with sure,
vigorous strokes he fell to demolishing his _filet de dinde a la
Perigueux_, while a butler refilled his glass with Chateau Malescot,
1878.
"Well, it does beat the two rooms the madam and me started to keep
house in when we was married," admitted the host. "That was on the
banks of the Chicago River, and now we got the Hudson flowin' right
through the front yard, you might say, right past our own
yacht-landing."
From old days of work and hardship they came to discuss the present and
their immediate surroundings, social and financial.
Their daughters, it appeared, were being sought in marriage by the sons
of those among whom they sojourned.
"Oh, they're a nice band of hand-shakers, all right, all right,"
asserted the gentleman from Kansas City. "One of 'em tried to keep
company with our Caroline, but I wouldn't stand for it. He was a
crackin' good shinny player, and he could lead them cotillion-dances
blowin' a whistle and callin', 'All right, Up!' or something, like a
car-starter,--but, 'Tell me something good about him,' I says to an old
friend of his family. Well, he hemmed and hawed--he was a New York
gentleman, and says he, 'I don't know whether I could make you
understand or not,' he says, 'but he's got Family,' jest like that,
bearin' down hard on 'Family'--'and you've got money,' he says, 'and
Money and Family need each other badly in this town,' he says. 'Yes,'
says I, 'I met up with a number of people here,' I says, 'but I ain't
met none yet that you'd have to blindfold and back into a lot of
money,' I says, 'family or no family,' I says. 'And that young man,' he
says, 'is a pleasant, charming fellow; why,' he says, 'he's the
best-coated man in New York.' Well, I looked at him and I says, 'Well,'
says I, 'he may be the best-coated man in New York, but he'll be the
best-booted man in New York, too,' I says, 'if he comes around trying
to spark Caroline any more,--or would be if I had my way. His chin's
pushed too far back under his face,' I says, 'and besides,' I says,
'Caroline is being waited on by a young hardware drummer, a good steady
young fellow travelling out of little old K.C.,' I says, 'and while he
ain't much for fam'ly,' I says, he'll have one of his own before he
gets through,' I says; 'we start fam'lies where I come from,' I says."
"Good boy! Good for you," cheered the self-made Barbarians, and drank
success to the absent disseminator of hardware.
With much loud talk of this unedifying character the dinner progressed
to an end; through _selle d'agneau_, floated in '84 champagne, terrapin
convoyed by a special Madeira of 1850, and canvas-back duck with
_Romanee Conti_, 1865, to a triumphant finale of Turkish coffee and
1811 brandy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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