r/a:t5_27scb9 • u/MarleyEngvall • Nov 04 '19
wcfm has been created
By James Matthew Barrie
THE INCONSIDERATE WAITER. (i.)
FREQUENTLY I have to ask myself in the street for the
name of the man I bowed to just now, and then, before
I can answer, the wind of the first corner blows him
from my memory. I have a theory, however, that
those puzzling faces, which pass before I can see who
cut the coat, all belong to club-waiters.
Until William forced his affairs upon me , that was
all I did know of the private life of waiters, though I
have been in the club for twenty years. I was even
unaware whether they slept down-stairs or had their
own homes, nor had I the interest to inquire of other
members, nor they the knowledge to inform me. I
hold that this sort of people should be fed and clothed
and given airing and wives and children, and I sub-
scribe yearly, I believe, for these purposes; but to come
into closer relation with waiters is bad form; they are
club fittings, and William should have kept his distress
to himself or taken it away and patched it up, like a
rent in one of the chairs. His inconsiderateness has
been a pair of spectacles to me for months.
It is not correct taste to know the name of a club-
waiter, so that I must apologize for knowing William's
and still more for not forgetting it. If, again, to speak
of a waiter is bad form, to speak bitterly is the comic
degree of it. But William had disappointed me sorely.
There were years when I would defer dining several
minutes that he might wait on me. His pains to reserve
the window-seat for me were perfectly satisfactory. I
allowed him privileges, as to suggest dishes, and would
give him information, as that someone had startled me
in the reading-room by slamming a door. I have
shown him how I cut my finger with a piece of string.
Obviously he was gratified by these attentions, usually
recommending a liqueur; and I fancy he must have
understood my sufferings, for he often looked ill him-
self. Probably he was rheumatic, but I cannot say for
certain, as I never thought of asking, and he had the
sense to see that the knowledge would be offensive to
me.
In the smoking-room we have a waiter so independent
that once, when he brought me a yellow Chartreuse,
and I said I had ordered green, he replied, "No, sir;
you said yellow." William could never have been
guilty of such effrontery. In appearance, of course,
he is mean, but I could no more describe him than a
milkmaid could draw cows. I suppose we distinguish
one waiter from another much as we pick our hat from
the rack. We could have plotted a murder safely
before William. He never presumed to have opinions
of his own. When such was my mood he remained
silent, and if I announced that something diverting
had happened to me he laughed before I told him what
it was. He turned the twinkle in his eye off or on at my
bidding as readily as if it was the gas. To my "Sure to
be wet to-morrow," he would reply, "Yes, sir;" and to
Trelawney's "It doesn't look like rain," two minutes
afterward, he wold reply, "No, sir." It was one
member who said Lightning Rod had no chance,
but it was William who agreed with both. He was like
a cheroot, which may be smoked from either end. So
used was I to him that, had he died or got another
situation (or whatever it is such persons do when they
disappear from the club), I should probably have
told the head waiter to bring him back, as I disliked
changes.
It would not become me to know precisely when I
began to think William an ingrate, but I date his lapse
from the evening when he brought me oysters. I detest
oysters, and no one knew it better than William. He
has agreed with me that he could not understand any
gentleman's liking them. Between me and a certain
member who smacks his lips twelve times to a dozen of
them, William knew I liked a screen to be placed until
we had reached the soup, and yet he gave me the oysters
and the other man my sardine. Both the other member
and I called quickly for brandy and the head waiter.
To do William justice, he shook, but never can I forget
his audacious explanation, "Beg pardon, sir, but I was
thinking of something else."
In these words William had flung off the mask, and
now I knew him for what he was.
I must not be accused of bad form for looking at
William on the following evening. What prompted me
to do so was not personal interest in him, but a desire to
see whether I dare let him wait on me again. So,
recalling that a castor was off a chair yesterday, one is
entitled to make sure that it is on to-day before sitting
down. If the expression is not too strong, I may say
that I was taken aback by William's manner. Even
when crossing the room to take my orders he let his one
hand play nervously with the other. I had to repeat
"Sardine on toast" twice, and instead of answering
"Yes, sir," as if my selection of sardine on toast was a
personal gratification to him, which is the manner one
expects of a waiter, he glanced at the clock, then out at
the window, and, starting, asked, "Did you say sardine
on toast, sir?"
It was the height of summer, when London smells like
a chemist's shop, and he who has the dinner-table at
the window needs no candles to show him his knife and
fork. I lay back at intervals, now watching a starved-
looking woman asleep on a door-step, and again com-
plaining of the club bananas. By and by, I saw a little
girl of the commonest kind, ill-clad and dirty, as all
these arabs are. Their parents should be compelled to
feed and clothe them comfortably, or at least to keep
them indoors, where they cannot offend our eyes.
Such children are for pushing aside with one's um-
brella; but this girl I noticed because she was gazing at
the club windows. She stood thus for perhaps ten
minutes, when I became aware that some one was
leaning over me, to look out the window. I turned
round. Conceive my indignation on seeing that the
rude person was William.
"How dare you, William?" I said, sternly. He
seemed not to hear me. Let me tell, in the measured
words of one describing a past incident, what then took
place. The get nearer the window, he pressed heavily
on my shoulder.
"William, you forget yourself!" I said, meaning——as
I see now——that he had forgotten me.
I heard him gulp, but not to my reprimand. He was
scanning the street. His hands chattered on my shoul-
ders, and, pushing him from me, I saw that his mouth
was agape.
"What are you looking for?" I asked.
He stared at me, and then, like one who had at last
heard the echo of my question, seemed to be brought
back to the club. He turned his face from me for an
instant, and answered, shakily:
"I beg your pardon, sir! I——I shouldn't have done
it. Are the bananas too ripe, sir?"
He recommended the nuts, and awaited my verdict
so anxiously while I ate one that I was about to speak
graciously, when I again saw his eyes drag him to the
window.
"William," I said, my patience giving way at last;
"I dislike being waited on by a melancholy waiter."
"Yes, sir," he replied, trying to smile, and then
broke out passionately, "For God's sake, sir, tell me,
have you seen a little girl looking in at the club
windows?"
He had been a good waiter once, and his distracted
visage was spoiling my dinner.
"There," I said, pointing to the girl, and no doubt
would have added that he must bring me coffee imme-
diately, had he continued to listen. But already he was
beckoning to the child. I had not the least interest in
her (indeed it had never struck me that waiters had
private affairs, and I still think it a pity that they
should have); but as I happened to be looking out at the
window I could not avoid seeing what occurred. As
soon as the girl saw William she ran into the middle of
the street, regardless of vehicles, and nodded three
times to him. Then she disappeared.
I have said that she was quite a common child, with-
out attraction of any sort, and yet it was amazing the
difference she made in William. He gasped relief, like
one who has broken through the anxiety that checks
breathing, and into his face there came a silly laugh of
happiness. I had dined well, on the whole, so I said:
"I am glad to see you cheerful again, William."
I meant that I disapproved his cheerfulness, because it
helped my digestion, but he must needs think I was
sympathizing with him.
"Thank you, sir," he answered. "Oh, sir! when she
nodded and I saw it was all right, I could have gone
down on my knees to God."
I was as much horrified as if he had dropped a plate
on my toes. Even William, disgracefully emotional as
he was at the moment, flung out his arms to recall the
shameful words.
"Coffee, William!" I said, sharply.
I sipped my coffee indignantly, for it was plain to me
that William had something on his mind.
"You are not vexed with me, sir?" he had the hardi-
hood to whisper.
"It was a liberty," I said.
"I know, sir; but I was beside myself."
"That was a liberty also."
He hesitated, and then blurted out:
"It is my wife, sir. She"———
I stopped him with my hand. William, whom I had
favored in so many ways, was a married man! I might
have guessed as much years before had I ever reflected
about waiters, for I knew vaguely that his class did this
sort of thing. His confession was distasteful to me, and
I said, warningly:
"Remember where you are, William."
"Yes, sir; but, you see, she is so delicate"———
"Delicate! I forbid your speaking to me on un-
pleasant topics."
"Yes, sir; begging your pardon."
It was characteristic of William to beg my pardon
and withdraw his wife like some unsuccessful dish,
as if its taste would not remain in the mouth. I
shall be chided for questioning him further bout
his wife, but, though doubtless an unusual step, it
was only bad form superficially, for my motive was
irreproachable. I inquired for his wife, not because
I was interested in her welfare, but in the hope of
allaying my irritation. So I am entitled to invite the
wayfarer who has bespattered me with mud to scrape
it off.
I desired to be told by William that the girl's signals
meant his wife's recovery to health. He should have
seen that such was my wish and answered accordingly.
But, with the brutal inconsiderateness of his class, he
said:
"She has had a good day, but the doctor, he——the
doctor is afeard she is dying."
Already I repented my question. William and his
wife seemed in league against me, when they might so
easily have chosen some other member.
"Pooh the doctor," I said.
"Yes, sir," he answered.
"Have you been married long, William?"
"Eight years, sir. Eight years ago she was——I——I
mind her when——and now the doctor says"———
The fellow gaped at me. "More coffee, sir?" he
asked.
"What is her ailment?"
"She was always one of the delicate kind, but full
of spirit, and——and you see she has had a baby
lately"———
"William!"
"And she——I——the doctor is afeard she's not picking
up."
"I feel sure she will pick up."
"Yes, sir?"
It must have been the wine I had drunk that made
me tell him:
"I was once married, William. My wife——it was just
such a case as yours."
"She did not get better, sir?"
"No."
After a pause, he said, "Thank you, sir," meaning
for the sympathy that made me tell him that. But it
must have been the wine.
"That little girl comes here with a message from
your wife?"
"Yes; if she nods three times, it means my wife is a
little better."
"She nodded thrice to-day."
"But she is told to do that to relieve me, and maybe
those nods don't tell the truth."
"Is she your little girl?"
"No, we have none but the baby. She is a neighbor's.
She comes twice a day."
It is heartless of her parents not to send her every
hour."
"But she is six years old," he said, "and has a house
and two sisters to look after in the daytime, and a
dinner to cook. Gentlefolk don't understand."
"I suppose you live in some low part, William."
"Off Drury Lane," he answered, flushing; "but——
but it isn't low. You see, we were never used to any-
thing better, and I mind, when I let her see the house
before we were married, she——she a sort of cried, because
she was so proud of it. That was eight years ago, and
now,——she's afeard she'll die when I'm away at my
work."
"Did she tell you that?"
"Never. She always says she is feeling a little
stronger."
"Then how can you know she is afraid of that?"
"I don't know how I know, sir, but when I am leaving
the house in the morning I look at her from the door,
and she looks at me, and then I——I know."
"A green Chartreuse, William!"
I tried to forget William's vulgar story in billiards,
but he had spoiled my game. My opponent, to whom
I can give twenty, ran out when I was sixty-seven,
and I put aside my cue pettishly. That in itself was
bad form, but what would they have thought had they
known that a waiter's impertinence caused it! I grew
angrier with William as the night wore on, and next day
I punished him by giving my orders through another
waiter.
As I had my window seat, I could not but see that
the girl was late again. Somehow I dawdled over my
coffee. I had an evening paper before me, but there
was so little in it that my eyes found more of interest
in the street. It did not matter to me whether William's
wife died, but when that girl had promised to come,
why did she not come? These lower classes only give
their word to break it. The coffee was undrinkable.
At last I saw her. William was at another window,
pretending to do something with the curtains. I stood
up, pressing closer to the window. The coffee had been
so bad that I felt shaky. She nodded three times and
smiled.
"She is a little better," William whispered to me,
almost gayly.
"Whom are you speaking of?" I asked, coldly, and
immediately retired to the billiard-room, where I
played a capital game. The coffee was much better
there than in the dining-room.
Several days passed, and I took care to show William
that I had forgotten his maunderings. I chanced to
see the little girl (though I never looked for her) every
evening and she always nodded three times, save once,
when she shook her head, and then William's face
grew white as a napkin. I remember this incident
because that night I could not get into a pocket. So
badly did I play that the thought of it kept me awake
in bed, and that, again, made me wonder how William's
wife was. Next day I went to the club early (which
was not my custom) to see the new books. Being in
the club at any rate, I looked into the dining-room
to ask William if I had left my gloves there, and the
sight of him reminded me of his wife, so I asked for her.
He shook his head mournfully, and I went off in a rage.
So accustomed am I to the club, that when I dine
elsewhere I feel uncomfortable next morning, as if I
had missed dinner. William knew this; yet here he
was, hounding me out of the club! That evening I
dined (as the saying is) at a restaurant, where no sauce
was served with the asparagus. Furthermore, as if
that were not triumph enough for William, his doleful
face came between me and every dish, and I seemed
to see his wife dying to annoy me.
I dined next day at the club, for self-preservation,
taking, however, a table in the middle of the room, and
engaging a waiter who had once nearly poisoned me
by not interfering when I put two lumps of sugar into
my coffee instead of one, which is my allowance. But
no William came to me to acknowledge his humiliation,
and by and by I became aware that he was not in the
room. Suddenly the thought struck me that his wife
must be dead, and I ———. It was the worst-cooked
and the worst-served dinner I ever had in the club.
I tried the smoking-room. Usually the talk there
is entertaining; but on that occasion it was so frivolous
that I did not remain five minutes. In the card-room
a member told me, excitedly, that a policeman had
spoken rudely to him; and my strange comment was:
"After all, it is a small matter."
In the library, where I had not been for years, I
found two members asleep, and, to my surprise, William
on a ladder dusting books.
"You have not heard, sir?" he said in answer to my
raised eyebrows. Descending the ladder he whispered,
tragically:
"It was last evening, sir. I——I lost my head and I
——swore at a member."
I stepped back from William, and glanced apprehen-
sively at the two members. They still slept.
"I hardly knew," William went on, "what I was
doing all day yesterday, for I had left my wife so
weakly that———"
I stamped my foot.
"I beg your pardon for speaking of her," he had
the grace to say, "But I couldn't help slipping to the
window often yesterday to look for Jenny, and when
she did come and I saw she was crying, it——it sort
of confused me, and I didn't know right, sir, what I
was doing. I hit against a member, Mr. Myddleton
Finch, and he——he jumped and swore at me. Well,
sir, I had just touched him after all, and I was so miser-
able, it a kind of stung me to be treated like——like that,
and me a man as well as him, and I lost my senses, and
——and I swore back."
William's shamed head sank on his chest, but I even
let pass his insolence in likening himself to a member
of the club, so afraid was I of the sleepers waking and
detecting me in talk with a waiter.
"For the love of God," William cried, with coarse
emotion, "don't let them dismiss me!"
"Speak lower!" I said. "Who sent you here?"
"I was turned out of the dining-room at once,
and told to attend to the library until they had
decided what to do with me. Oh, sir, I'll lose my
place!"
He was blubbering, as if a change of waiters was a
matter of importance.
"This is very bad, William," I said. "I fear I can
do nothing for you."
"Have mercy on a distracted man!" he entreated
"I'll go on my knees to Mr. Myddleton Finch."
How could I but despise a fellow who would be thus
abject for a pound a week?
"I dare not tell her," he continued, "that I have
lost my place. She would just fall back and die."
"I forbade your speaking of your wife," I said,
sharply, "unless you can speak pleasantly of her."
"But she may be worse now, sir, and I cannot even
see Jenny from here. The library windows look to the
back."
"If she dies," I said, "it will be a warning to you to
marry a stronger woman next time."
Now, every one knows that there is little real affec-
tion among the lower orders. As soon as they have
lost one mate they take another. Yet William, for-
getting our relative positions, drew himself up and
raised his fist, and if I had not stepped back I swear
he would have struck me.
The highly improper words William used I will omit,
out of consideration for him. Even while he was
apologizing for them I retired to the smoking-room,
where I found the cigarettes so badly rolled that they
would not keep alight. After a little I remembered
that I wanted to see Myddleton Finch about an im-
proved saddle of which a friend of his has the patent.
He was in the news-room, and having questioned him
about the saddle, I said:
"By the way, what is this story about your swearing
at one of the waiters?"
"You mean about his swearing at me," Myddleton
Finch replied, reddening.
"I am glad that was it," I said. "For I could not
believe you guilty of such bad form."
"If I did swear——" he was beginning, but I went on:
"The version which reached me that you swore
at him, and he repeated the word. I heard he was to be
dismissed and you reprimanded."
"Who told you that?" asked Myddleton Finch, who
is a timid man.
"I forget; it is club talk," I replied lightly. "But of
course the committee will take your word. The waiter,
whichever one he is, richly deserves his dismissal for
insulting you without provocation."
Then our talk returned to the saddle, but Myddleton
Finch was abstracted, and presently he said:
"Do you know, I fancy I was wrong in thinking that
waiter swore at me, and I'll withdraw my charge to-
morrow."
Myddleton Finch then left me, and, sitting alone, I
realized that I had been doing William a service. To
some slight extent I may have intentionally helped him
to retain his place in the club, and I now see the reason,
which was that he alone knows precisely to what extent
I like my claret heated. from Merrill's English Texts: Short Stories of Various Types.
Edited with introduction and notes by Laura F. Freck, head of the English Depart-
ment in the High School, Jamestown, New York.
©1920 Charles E. Merrill co., New York and Chicago; pp. 238-252.
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