Dickens addressed him as "C.," and handed him the sauce bottle, the bread, or whatever she imagined he desired, as if she were offering sacrifice to an idol.
She sat next to Captain Elisha and imparted information concerning her lord and master in whispers, during the intervals between offerings.
"My husband will be pleased to meet you, Captain Warren," she murmured. "Any friend of Mr. Pearson is certain to be an acquisition. Mr. Pearson and my husband are congenial spirits;they are members of the same profession."
"I want to know, ma'am."
"Yes. What is it, 'C.' dear? Oh, the butter! Margaret--" to the waitress--"Mr. Dickens wishes another butter-ball. Yes, Captain Warren, Mr. Dickens is an author. Haven't you noticed the--er--resemblance? It is considered quite remarkable."Captain Elisha looked puzzled. "Why," he said, "I hadn't noticed it 'special. Jim's--Mr. Pearson's--eyes and his are some the same color, but--""Oh, no! not the resemblance to Mr. Pearson. I didn't mean THAT.
The resemblance to his more famous namesake. Surely you notice it NOW."The captain shook his head. "I--I'm afraid I'm thick-headed, ma'am," he admitted. "I'm out of soundin's.""But the nose, and his beard, and his manner. Don't they remind you of the English Dickens?""O-oh!" Captain Elisha inspected the great man with interest. He had a vague memory of a portrait in a volume of "Pickwick" at home.
"Oh, I see! Yes, yes."
"Of course you see! Everyone does. Mr. Dickens often says--it is one of his favorite jokes--that while other men must choose a profession, his was chosen for him by fate. How, with such a name, could he do anything except write?""I don't know, ma'am. But names are risky pilots, ain't they?
I've run against a consider'ble number of Solomons, but there wa'n't one of 'em that carried more'n a deckload of wisdom. They christened me Elisha, but I can't even prophesy the weather with sartinty enough to bet. However, I daresay in your husband's case it's all right."The lady had turned away, and he was afraid he might have offended her. The fear was groundless; she was merely offering another sacrifice, the sugar this time.
"Yes?" she asked, turning, "you were saying--""Why--er--nothin' of account. I cal'late the C. stands for Charles, then.""No-o. Mr. Dickens's Christian name is Cornelius; but don't mention it before him, he is very sensitive on that point."The Dickenses "tickled" the captain exceedingly, and, after the meal was over, he spoke of them to Pearson.
"Say," he said, "you're in notorious company, ain't you, Jim?
What has Cornelius Charles turned out so far, in the way of masterpieces?"Pearson laughed. "I believe he is employed by a subscription house," he replied. "Doing hack work on an encyclopedia. A great collection of freaks, aren't they, Captain Warren?""Kind of. But that old book-shop man and his wife seem nice folks.
And, as for freaks, the average boardin' house, city or country, seems to draw 'em like flies. I guess most anybody would get queer if they boarded all the time.""Perhaps so. Or, if they weren't queer, they wouldn't board permanently from choice. There are two or three good fellows who dine and breakfast here. The food isn't bad, considering the price.""No, it ain't. Tasted more like home than any meal I've had for a good while. I'm afraid I never was cut out for swell livin'."Mrs. Hepton approached them as they stood in the hall. She wished to know if Mr. Pearson's friend was thinking of finding lodgings.
Because Mr. Saks--the artist's name--was giving up the second floor back in a fortnight, and it was a very pleasant room. "We should be delighted to add you to our little circle, Captain Warren."Pearson told her that his companion was already lodged, and she said good-by and left them. The captain smiled broadly.
"Everything in New York seems to be circles," he declared. "Well, Jim, you come up and circulate with me, first chance you get. I'm dependin' on you to call, remember."The young man was still doubtful.
"I'll see," he said. "I can't promise yet--perhaps I will.""You will--after you've thought it out to a finish. And come soon.
I'm gettin' interested in that second edition of your Uncle Jim, and I want to keep along with him as fast as you write. Good-by.
Much obliged for the dinner--there I go again!--luncheon, I mean."