The Metropolis

They were bound for a shooting-lodge, and so she asked him if he were fond of shooting. He replied that he was; in answer to a further question he said that he had hunted chiefly deer and wild turkey. "Ah, then you are a real hunter!" said Miss Price. "I'm afraid you'll scorn our way."

"What do you do.?" he inquired.

" Wait and you'll see," replied she; and added, casually, "When you get to be pally with us, you'll conclude we don t furnish."

Montague's jaw dropped just a little. He recovered himself, however, and said that he presumed so, or that he trusted not; afterward, when he had made inquiries and found out what

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he should have said, he had completely forgotten what he had said. — Down in a hotel in Natchez there was an old head waiter, to whom Montague had once appealed to seat him next to a friend. At the next meal, learning that the re-<|uest had been granted, he said to the old man, "I'm afraid you have shown me partiality;" to which the reply came, "I always tries to show it as much as I Tkin." Montague always thought of this whenever he recalled his first encounter with "Billy" Price.

The young lady on the other side of him now remarked that Kobbie was ordering another *'topsy-turvy lunch." He inquired what sort of a lunch that was; she told him that Robbie called it a "digestion exercise." That was the only remark that Miss de Mille addressed to him during the meal (Miss Gladys de Mille, the banker's daughter, known as "Baby" to her intimates). She was a stout and round-faced ^rl, who devoted herself strictly to the business of lunching; and Montague noticed at the end that she was breathing rather hard, and that her big round eyes seemed bigger than ever.

Conversation was general about the table, but it was not easy conversation to follow. It consisted mostly of what is known as "joshing" and involved acquaintance with intimate details of personalities and past events. Also, there was a great deal of slang used, which kept a stranger's wits on the jump. However, Montague concluded that all his deficiencies were made up for by his brother, whose sallies were the cause of the loudest laughter. Just now he seemed to

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the other more Uke the OUver he had known of old — for Montague had already noted a change in him. At home there had never been any end to his gaiety and fun, and it was hard to get him to take anything seriously; but now he kept all his jokes for company, and when he was alone he was in deadly earnest. Apparently he was working hard over his pleasures.

Montague could understand how this was possible. Someone, for instance, had worked hard over the ordering of the lunch — to secure the maximum of explosive effect. It began with icecream, moulded in fancy shapes and then buried in white of egg and baked brown. Then there was a turtle soup, thick and green and greasy; and then — horror of horrors — a great steaming plum-pudding. It was served in a strange f)henomenon of a platter, with six long, silver egs; and the waiter set it in front of Robbie WalHng and lifted the cover with a sweeping gesture — and then removed it and served it himself. Montague had about made up his. mind that this was the end, and begun to fill up on bread and butter, when there appeared cold asparagus, served in individual silver holders resembling andirons. Then — appetite now being sufficiently whetted — there came quail, in piping hot little casseroles; and then half a grape-fruit set in a block of ice and filled with wine; and then little squab ducklings, bursting fat, and an artichoke; and then a cafe parfait; and then — as if to crown the audacity — huge thick slices of roast beef! Montague had given up long ago — he could keep no track oi the

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deluge of food which poured forth. And between all the courses there were wines of precious brands, tumbled helter-skelter, — sherry and port, champagne and claret and Uqueur. Montague watched poor "Baby" de Mille out of the corner of his eye, and pitied her; for it was evident that she could not resist the impulse to eat whatever was put before her, and she was visibly suffering. He wondered whether he might not manage to divert her by conversation, but he lacked the courage to make the attempt.

The meal was over at four o'clock. By that time most of the other parties were far on their way to New York, and the inn was deserted. They possessed themselves of their belongings, and one by one their cars whirled away toward "Black Forest."

Montague had been told that it was a " shooting-lodge." He had a vision of some kind of a rustic shack, and wondered dimly how so many people would be stowed away. When they turned off the main road, and his brother remarked, " Here we are," he was surprised to see a rather large building of OTanite, with an archway spanning the road. He was still more surprised when they whizzed through and went on.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"To 'Black Forest,'" said OUver.