One thing troubled me. I
wanted her permission about something. I said, "I'll behave
myself and you'll not have to be ashamed of me. All this is new.
I have never been in a fine home before and have never been to a
banquet. May I have your permission to taste that champagne out
of my own glass? I have always wanted to taste champagne and I
may never get the chance again."
That was too much for her. She had been aching to laugh out loud.
She put her arm around me and let go, saying, "Andrew, you are
just about the finest young man we ever had in our home. Of
course you have my permission to taste the champagne. . . I just
want you to tell me how it tastes."
The banquet and ball were howling successes so far as I was
concerned. I made at least two big mistakes. . . I got the vast
assortment of spoons and forks pretty well mixed, but soon
corrected that by watching the middle-aged woman at my side. The
awful and really devastating mistake was due to my appetite.
Military School diet was rigid. I was young, healthy and hungry.
I noticed my girl minced and toyed with the fish, soup and other
preliminaries, but attributed that to some feminine quirk. I ate
all mine in stride. When the canvas back, caviar and other
unknown real delicacies came along it was too late for me.
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