VII
Dr. Elmer Gantry was walking the deck of the Scythia, a bright, confident, manly figure in a blue suit, a yachting cap, and white canvas shoes, swinging his arms and beaming pastorally on his fellow athletic maniacs.
He stopped at the deck chairs of a little old couple—a delicate blue-veined old lady, and her husband, with thin hands and a thin white beard.
“Well, you folks seem to be standing the trip pretty good—for old folks!” he roared.
“Yes, thank you very much,” said the old lady.
He patted her knee, and boomed, “If there’s anything I can do to make things nice and comfy for you, mother, you just holler! Don’t be afraid to call on me. I haven’t advertised the fact—kind of fun to travel what they call incognito—but fact is, I’m a minister of the gospel, even if I am a husky guy, and it’s my pleasure as well as my duty to help folks anyway I can. Say, don’t you think it’s just about the loveliest thing about this ocean traveling, the way folks have the leisure to get together and exchange ideas? Have you crossed before?”
“Oh, yes, but I don’t think I ever shall again,” said the old lady.
“That’s right—that’s right! Tell you how I feel about it, mother.” Elmer patted her hand. “We’re Americans, and while it’s a fine thing to go abroad maybe once or twice—there’s nothing so broadening as travel, is there!—still, in America we’ve got a standard of decency and efficiency that these poor old European countries don’t know anything about, and in the long run the good old U.S.A. is the place where you’ll find your greatest happiness—especially for folks like us, that aren’t any blooming millionaires that can grab off a lot of castles and those kind of things and have a raft of butlers. You bet! Well, just holler when I can be of any service to you. So long, folks! Got to do my three miles!”
When he was gone, the little, delicate old lady said to her husband:
“Fabian, if that swine ever speaks to me again, I shall jump overboard! He’s almost the most offensive object I have ever encountered! Dear—How many times have we crossed now?”
“Oh, I’ve lost track. It was a hundred and ten two years ago.”
“Not more?”
“Darling, don’t be so snooty.”
“But isn’t there a law that permits one to kill people who call you ‘Mother’?”
“Darling, the Duke calls you that!”
“I know. He does. That’s what I hate about him! Sweet, do you think fresh air is worth the penalty of being called ‘Mother’? The next time this animal stops, he’ll call you ‘Father’!”
“Only once, my dear!”