A week later Belknap-Jackson joyously informed me that the great
artist had consented to accept his hospitality. There would be light
refreshments, with which I was charged. I suggested tea in the Russian
manner, which he applauded.
"And everything dainty in the way of food," he warned me. "Nothing
common, nothing heavy. Some of those tiny lettuce sandwiches, a bit of
caviare, macaroons--nothing gross--a decanter of dry sherry, perhaps,
a few of the lightest wafers; things that cultivated persons may
trifle with--things not repugnant to the artist soul."
I promised my profoundest consideration to these matters.
"And it occurs to me," he thoughtfully added, "that this may be a time
for Vane-Basingwell to silence the slurs upon himself that are
becoming so common. I shall beg him to meet our guest at his hotel and
escort him to my place. A note to my friend, 'the bearer, the
Honourable George Augustus Vane-Basingwell, brother of his lordship
the Earl of Brinstead, will take great pleasure in escorting to my
home----' You get the idea? Not bad!"
Again I applauded, resolving that for once the Honourable George would
be suitably attired even if I had to bully him. And so was launched
what promised to be Red Gap's most notable social event of the season.
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