The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1902-05-16
In the Restaurant.

swirls through the city's streets, and
great letters of gold emblaZoned on the
window invite the passers' attention.
The Dol is deep and narrow. In the
front end is a hollow square of glass
showcases filled with deliberately frosted
cakes, fruits temptingly displayed and
various works of culinary art. Behind
the counter stands the cashier, at the
nickeled register, and by his hand a
spindle on which the checks are skeWered
as they are passed to him.
We are met by a short, well-built
young man with the physiognomical
characteristics of a German, the fair
complexion, the blue eyes, the faxen
hair, but we Overhear him tell two ladies,
who imagine they see in him some re-
semblance to an acquaintance of theirs
that he is a native of Louisville. We
are conducted down the long room set
with tables filled with chattering crowds
of diners, to the farther end, where he
places chairs for us at a handicapped
table without a cloth, and Uttered with
the remains of a repast of which a party
of men, who are but just leaving, have
partaken. a waiter removes the dirty
dishes and the crumpled napkins and
wipes the top of the table. AS we hang
our hats and coats upon the hook against
the wall we observe a sign that informs
US the management will not be response
BILE for articles thatmay be lost or stolen.
An atmosphere permeated with odor
of baking bread pervades the place. The
walls are done in a rich red with gold
tracings, and are hung with engravings
and paintings. We have not time to see
more before a tall and rather pretty
waitress in black dress and white apron
hands us the bill of fare and napkins,
and after filling III glasses with water,
waits for our orders. Is there anything
more puzzling than a bill of fare? 1t is
long and closely printed yet in the
variety of dishes one finds but a limited
few for which he thinks he cares. At
length we make our choice and the wait
ress scurries away to fill our orders.
Then we have a few moments to look
about and take note of our surroundings.
We observe for the first time, that two
other people are seated at our table, a
handsome, dark man, scrupulously at
tired, with black Vandyke beard, his
companion a young girl. We are sur
prised to discover that the a is a
foreigner, a German, we decide from his
accent, a polished, cultured gentleman,
all courtesies and smiles, one evidently
from the higher circles who speaks splen-
did English, with a rare choice of words,
but without facility, that renders his
turns eavesdropper and learns that the
girl is about to take a journey, for he
asks her, "Ven do you away go?" You
strain your ears to catch the answer, but
there is a CHATTER of dishes and the hum
of conversation, and the young lady re-
plies in too low a voice for you to hear.
You become intensely interested in these
whom you have not met before
and who, when the meal is over, walk
out of your life never to enter it again.
He orders for himself and her a plate
Of baked ham and cabbage, a piece of
roast beef, potatoes German-fried, for
two a bottle of milk and a cup of cocoa
in the same calm, well modulated tone,
with the same air of inimitable dignity
and refinement that marks his every
utterance to the girl. When you have
an opportunity, without being observed,
you glance at the young lady, a girl, you
say, Of sixteen, tall and slender, of Ger
man descent, but American born, stupid,
you believe, not quick to think, not
pretty either, yet not without composure,
grace of carriage, modest and retiring,
not we'll, though not conspicuously i'll
dressed, showing lack, not of means, but
of taste. You wonder what relation ex-
lists between the two, they are not father
and daughter. Perhaps she is his niece,
but nothing that is overheard will Justify
the conclusion.
You wonder where her journey will
take her. All, here's a clue: evil you
90 to London?" No, not to London.
To Paris, perhaps?" Not to Paris,
either. "To Berlin, them" Yes, they
are going to Berlin. And one wonders
who the others are. He will not be one
Of them, for he knows little even about
their movements. He tells her of ''ze
trip down re Rhine, Eat is so beautiful"
with gracefullest gestures and refindest |
enthusiasm. How s%trikingly different is
MS manner from the anners of a num-
Der of American business men seated at
an adjoining table, the sound of whose
noisy conversation and b~oisterous laugh
Ter, whose uncouth, fippant ways in
themselves upon US.
The light that filters through the
'tained-glass windows is not sufficient to
the gloom of the place. Artificial
lights in plenty, the dazzling arc lamps,
he yellow incandescents, blaze from the
"A bronze reproduction of the
Venus of Milo stands in a niche. Why
s it we always think of the original of
his statue as a woman without arms?
IN the wall opposite hangs a painting
foreign scene-a bit of an old orchard,
Towering apple tree in the foreground.
stone fence, the highway, a lady and
little girl beneath the tree, a peasant
trudging along the road with a
of wood on her head, and a child
at her skirts.
When the waitress brings their orders
'ur friend helps his lady in much the
anne manne that he might a queen.
Tor desert he orders Strawberries and
ream. He sprinkles her berries with
ugar and pours on the cream. He urges
yer to permit him to put more sugar on
hem. She insists that they are sweet
nough, but when she begins to eat she
-nds them sour and she reaches for the
ugar herself. He laughs good humor-
.ly. He makes polite inquiry concern
lg the health and welfare of certain
ommon friends. He speaks of social
lnctions in which it seemed she had
aiken part. We are sorry to see them
nish their meal and prepare for their