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Page 13
The polite waiter smiled so broadly that he showed two long rows of
white teeth. It could not be Dotty who amused him. Her conduct was all
that is prim and proper. She sat beside her papa as motionless as a
waxen baby, her eyes rolling right and left, as if they were jerked by a
secret wire. It certainly could not have been Dotty. Then what was it
the man saw which was funny?
"Only one pigeon pie in the house, sir," said he, trying to look very
solemn, "and if the young lady will be pleased to wait, I'll bring it
to her in a few minutes. No such dish on any of the other bills of fare.
A rarity for this special day, sir. Anything else, miss, while you
wait?"
Mr. Parlin looked rather surprised. There had been no good reason given
for not bringing the pie at once; however, he merely asked Dotty to
choose again; and this time she chose "tomato steak," at a venture.
There were two gentlemen at the opposite side of the table, and one of
them watched Dotty with interest.
"Her mother has taken great pains with her," he thought; "she handles
her knife and fork very well. Where have I seen that child before?"
While he was still calling to mind the faces of various little girls of
his acquaintance, and trying to remember which face belonged to Dotty,
the waiter arrived with the "pigeon pie postponed." He had chosen the
time when most of the people had finished their first course, and the
clinking of dishes was not quite so hurried as it had been a little
while before. The table at which Mr. Parlin sat was nearly in the centre
of the room. As the waiter approached with the pie, the same amused look
passed over his face once more.
He set the dish upon the table near Mr. Parlin, who proceeded to cut a
piece for Miss Dimple. As the knife went into the pie, the crust seemed
to move; and lo, "when the pie was opened," out flew a pigeon alive and
well!
The bird at first hopped about the table in a frightened way, a little
blind and dizzy from being shut up in such a dark prison; but a few
breaths of fresh air revived him, and he flew merrily around the room,
to the surprise and amusement of the guests. It was a minute or two
before any of them understood what it meant. Then they began to laugh
and say they knew why the pie was "postponed:" it was because the pigeon
was not willing to be eaten alive.
It passed as a capital joke; but I doubt if Dotty Dimple appreciated it.
She looked at the hollow crust, and then at the purple-crested dove, and
thought a hotel dinner was even more peculiar than she had supposed. Did
they have "live pies" every day? How did they bake them without even
scorching the pigeons? But she busied herself with her nuts and raisins,
and asked no questions.
At four o'clock she went with, her father to see the Public Gardens and
other places of interest, and to buy a pair of new gloves. On the
Common they met one of the gentlemen who had sat opposite them at
dinner. He bowed as they were passing, and said, with a smile,--
"Can this be my little friend, Miss Prudy Parlin?"
"It is her younger sister, Alice," replied her father.
"And I am Major Benjamin Lazelle, of St. Louis," said the gentleman.
After this introduction, the three walked along in company, and seemed
to feel like old acquaintances; for Major Lazelle had once escorted Mrs.
Clifford on a journey to Maine, and since that time had been well known
to the Clifford family. Mr. Parlin was glad to learn that he would start
for St. Louis on the next day, and travel with himself and daughter
nearly as far as they went. Major Lazelle was also well pleased, and
began at once to make friends with Miss Dimple. The little girl had
recovered from her trials of the morning, and was so delighted with all
she saw that she "couldn't walk on two feet." She preferred to hop,
skip, and jump.
"O, papa, papa, what _are_ those little dears, just the color of my kid
gloves?"
"Those are deer, my child."
"Are they? I _said_ they were dears--didn't I? If they were _my_ dears,
I'd keep them in a parlor, and let them lie on a silk quilt with a
velvet pillow--wouldn't you?"
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