It certainly was trying to have to rise with a subservient and unobtrusive bow and glide out unnoticed by the real guests when they arrived; to have to relinquish the feast just when the feast should begin.  It would not be pleasant, certainly, to sit for an hour at a big empty table, ordering dishes fit only for epicures, and then, just as the waiters bore down with the Little Neck clams, so nicely iced and so cool and bitter-looking, to have to rise and go out into the street to a table d’hote around the corner.

This was Walters’s state of mind when Mr. Van Bibber told him for the hundredth time to keep a table for him for three at Delmonico’s.  Walters wrapped his severe figure in a frock-coat and brushed his hair, and allowed himself the dignity of a walking-stick.  He would have liked to act as a substitute in an evening dress-suit, but Van Bibber would not have allowed it.  So Walters walked over to Delmonico’s and took a table near a window, and said that the other gentlemen would arrive later.  Then he looked at his watch and ordered the dinner.  It was just the sort of dinner he would have ordered had he ordered it for himself at some one else’s expense.  He suggested Little Neck clams first, with chablis, and pea-soup, and caviare on toast, before the oyster crabs, with Johannisberger Cabinet; then an entree of calves’ brains and rice; then no roast, but a bird, cold asparagus with French dressing, Camembert cheese, and Turkish coffee.  As there were to be no women, he omitted the sweets and added three other wines to follow the white wine.  It struck him as a particularly well-chosen dinner, and the longer he sat and thought about it the more he wished he were to test its excellence.  And then the people all around him were so bright and happy, and seemed to be enjoying what they had ordered with such a refinement of zest that he felt he would give a great deal could he just sit there as one of them for a brief hour.

At that moment the servant deferentially handed him a note which a messenger boy had brought.  It said: 

    “Dinner off called out town send clothes and things after me to
    Young’s Boston.  Van Bibber.”

Walter rose involuntarily, and then sat still to think about it.  He would have to countermand the dinner which he had ordered over half an hour before, and he would have to explain who he was to those other servants who had always regarded him as such a great gentleman.  It was very hard.

And then Walters was tempted.  He was a very good servant, and he knew his place as only an English servant can, and he had always accepted it, but to-night he was tempted—­and he fell.  He met the waiter’s anxious look with a grave smile.

“The other gentlemen will not be with me to-night,” he said, glancing at the note.  “But I will dine here as I intended.  You can serve for one.”