SHORT STORY LINKS

It was late in the evening, late indeed, for the sun was about to bed itself in the distant west, when at last I heard my man calling my name…

“Mr. Harkins, Mr. Harkins, sir.”

I had been waiting nearly an hour or so, on that icy park bench, which divided the park from the muddied roadway, and finally my message had come.  “Yes,” I answered as I twisted me head around to see the thin boy hurriedly walking up the uneven cobblestone way. 

His wispy blond hair, danced about dominate forehead, and I almost laughed aloud at the hilarity of his dress.  The pants were patched in a number of areas, and his shirt was the same.  What made the humor of it all was the peculiar colors that were used in the patching process, apparently no attempt was made at all in matching the colors and, as such, the patches were orange, red, bluish, grey, green and there was even a plaid one on his shirt, right about his left elbow.

I do not know if it was shear exhaustion or the frail fragments of his tattered shoes that nearly caused him to collapse onto the bench (nearly knocking me off the edge as well), but I managed to move to the side, allowing him room to stumble into an awkward sitting position.  I watched as he quickly straightened his shirt, his pants, and his position before he turned to me.

“Mr. Harkins, sir, Mr. Senioret has asked me to come and offer you this invitation to his grand ball, (at which time he also extended his sweat and dirt enshrouded hand, which held a neatly folded and lace bound invitation) which he is holding this evening.  By his request, he has also requested that you come dressed as a gentleman and in good taste, sir.”  The boy inhaled another deep  breath, as if he were about to execute some enamored speech about the gala and other events the evening would hold, but instead, he simply closed his mouth and stopped speaking.

I do not know how long I stared at him, but it seemed like an eternity.  Surely, he would continue his statement, and not just stop after such an inhalation.  At length, I was forced to assume that indeed his statement and offer of invitation on the behalf of Mr. Senioret was completed.  Without hesitation, I made a mental note to inform Mr. Senioret of the horrible duty that this poor boy did, as a supposed service for him, and would suggest without hesitation, that the fool not be paid for such devastating service.

My clean hands unbound the lace bindings on the scented invitation and opened it slowly, giving my eyes time to read the inscribed words.  Though the messenger did not impress me, the contents of the message did indeed!  Every letter was curved and formed by the most delicate precision that I had witnessed.  A master calligrapher must have created this invitation and the others as well, though that would have taken a lot of time, it did reflect on Mr. Senioret’s character and diligence as a gentleman and a distinguished man of modern society. 

To match this offer, and to come in such a style that was requested by the proprietor, I indeed must hurry and get to Gadsby’s quickly, so that I might acquire the most modern and manly dress. 

“My boy, are you to accompany me, or return to your master, Mr. Senioret?”

The knave merely nodded slowly, allowing his strawed-hair to dance more about his jutting forehead, which offered me no real answer to the question that I had asked. 

“Knave, you have not answered my question.  Are you to accompany me?”  It was then, just after the words had escaped my lips that I realized that I was nearly screaming at the boy who sat but a foot away from me. 

His little round, blue eyes sprung open wide at the escalation of my voice, and at the demand that I laid upon him.  In retrospect, I must have scared the fool nearly to death, with my abhorrent rage.  

“Yes, Mr. Harkins, I am to follow you and assist you with your preparations for the evening, ensuring that you arrive on time and in proper form.”  His voice quivered as he spoke his master’s orders. 

Was this knave supposed to help me, as I prepare for the festive gala, for the greatest party to grace the city in nearly a hundred years?  Still, I could not deviate him from the tasks assigned by his master, for that would show the greatest disrespect to Mr. Senioret, even if the poor boy was a ugly fool and an idiot. 

“Let us depart, and prepare,” I said in a much more toned down tone, as I stood from the worn park bench.  As soon as I was upright, he followed suit and stood, remaining always just a half-step behind (as a proper knave would).

It took but a moment for a coach to stop at our curb. Just as the round wooden wheels ground to a steady stop, the boy stepped from behind me and lowered the step, so that I would not have to step into the muddied street.  I smiled, for at least he knew what he was supposed to be doing, despite his horrid attire.

“Where to sir?” asked the coachman, as he grasped the reigns. 

“To Gadsby’s,” I replied quickly, “…for I have just past an hour to get prepared.”

The coach lurched into motion as the horses surged forward at the command of the coachman.  Gadsby’s was nearly a full twenty minutes from here, and from there almost another quarter of an hour to get to Mr. Senioret’s proud home.  I would be pressed for time, and could only hope that the tailor and fitter at Gadsby’s were up to the task that I was about to lay on them. 

A quick glance out the back portal, allowed me to see that my peasant messenger, was tagging along, by his place outside on the rear of the coach.  Though, I did wonder if all of the other guests were sent personal servants to attend to their needs as I have had a servant who attended to mine. 

Mr. Senioret, had few close friends, and I was not one of them.  I had only known the good Mr. Senioret for a few months.  It was when his business, expanded, and demanded assistance from my company in building the expansion onto his warehouse, that I ever had any dealings with the man.  Though, the one thing that remained with me about the good Mr. Senioret was his profound wisdom and careful business sense.  Both had impressed me so, that I had sought in the past few months to increase my business practices and my wisdom, though the latter was harder to achieve than I had thought.

The coach rumbled over the uneven pavestones and every few moments the splash could be heard as we plowed through yet another puddle from the rain earlier in the day.  I watched the people, as we passed them by, as the walked and carried various items and things with them.  We had at last reached the up-scaled business district, where Gadsby’s had made a name for itself, as one of the most predominant gentleman’s store.

As the wooden wheels ground to another stop, I waited for the mismatched boy to set the step and open the door.  I was impressed, as I did not have to wait long.  Only seconds seemed to pass, and then the door was flung wide, and the boy stood at the bottom of the steps, just off to the side. 

I smiled at him, though he did not look at me, but instead was looking at the store that was in front of him.  I remembered the first day that I had seen Gadsby’s and hoped that my initial reaction was not the same, for I was a gentleman and did not gawk. 

I stepped down the step and onto the rough stone curb, pausing only to tell the driver to wait, and that I would only be a moment.  The coachman, nodded his approval, and tethered the reigns to a small jutting post from the seat and leaned back for a moment to stretch. 

“Come.” I ordered the boy, as I stepped toward the great Gadsby’s.  As expected, the boy followed, but a step behind me, and never interfered with my approach to the store. 

Gadsby’s was an enormous store, with an attention demanding face.  It boasted nearly floor to ceiling perfectly crafted, pained glass, windows, which allowed an unobstructed view of some of the most modern and fanciful styles of the day.  There were full suits of the finest materials, in a variety of colors and styles that were well known to the rich and honorable in Europe and here in the United States.  There were also racks full of handcrafted canes, handmade leather belts and suspenders, elegant shirts and dress attire, and shoes that reflected even the evening stars.  Each artisan’s name was well known, and only the best of the best, and the greatest could be displayed or shown in this dear gallery of the most gentlemanly clothing.

Just as I approached the solid, cherry wood and glass door of Gadsby’s, my servant boy and messenger, sprung forward and drew open the door for me to walk through.  I smiled again, for it had been a long time since I had a servant that was as diligent as this one.  Indeed, I was about to dismiss his wicked appearance completely, for his service was unmatched. 

However, as he (my servant), crossed the threshold of Gadsby’s, the sales assistant and tailor, gawked at his horrid appearance, and rag-tag clothing.  “Welcome, good sir.”  The tailor started, as the sales assistant and fitter, quickly moved up to me.

“Good sir,” he said as he reached me, “your business is welcome, and we shall make you the finest gentleman in the city tonight, but he…” he threw a wilting glance at the knave, “must stay outside of our honorable store, and preferably on the other side of the street.”

This proposed to me the greatest dilemma.  My servant was the servant of my host, and to send the knave to the far side of the street, may dishonor my host, but further than that, and despite the appearance of the boy, his services were of the utmost perfection and he had been of the greatest assistance.  What could I have done?

“I see,” I started as I glanced back at my servant, “but, I must demand that he be with me, for just as I am an honorable gentleman, he is indeed an honorable and well suited servant, whom I will not send away, for I may need him.”

“Then I shall ask you pleasantly sir, to leave.”

“Leave?”  I questioned, as I felt the heat arise in my cheeks.

“Yes sir.  This establishment only caters to gentleman–not to illegitimate knaves, such as your atrociously dressed servant.  Surely, he (as he pointed his thin, bony finger at my servant) would not argue or be concerned with the fact that he is not needed here, in this establishment. 

“Very well,” I started reluctantly, and then it hit me, “sir, I wish to purchase some new clothes for my servant as well as for myself, surly you can not fit and dress him, if he is across the street!”

The tailor and the assistant cringed at the realization that they indeed could not force the ill-dressed servant across the street, if I intended to have him fitted and redressed.  Slowly, they looked the boy up and down, and then did the same to me.  In their eyes, I could see the wheels of thought and innovation spinning as they processed our sizes, weights, and body forms and evaluated the possible suits, clothing and attire that would be the best for our appearances. 

It was a blaze of passion and fury as we both were fitted, refitted, dressed and redressed as the tailor, fitter, and assistant flew through their duties and performed a miracle on both me and the servant of Mr. Senioret, who had so dutifully accompanied me.  When at last they had finished (about a quarter of an hour later), I was amazed at the transformation of my appearance and at the skill of the work hands of the Gadsby associates and tailors. 

When I looked back at the servant, his suit was well fitting, and of a true gentleman, though his head still demanded the acute attention of the eyes, as his forehead protruded forward, fouling his overall appearance.  Accompanied with the straw-like hair, which lay scattered about his head, he looked equally out of place and out of dress.

“A top hat!”  I said aloud, more to myself than to anyone in particular. 

“Top hats are for gentleman sir, not for servants.”  The tailor said with eyes that had nearly doubled in size, with my offered solution to the boys offending appearance.

“Sir,” I said in the calmest tone that I could muster at that particular moment, “if my servant is to accompany me to the grand gala, then his appearance reflects on me, and my appearance, if you will not dress him, and give him a proper top hat…”

The tailor cut me off violently, “Sir, he will not get a top hat!”

I scowled at the tailor, and then at the associates, “very well.”  I managed beneath my breath, as I thrust out the payment to the tailor, who took it willingly and with a smile.

I put on my top hat, and overcoat, and stomped out of the store, with the well dressed knave behind me.  Again, he leapt in front of me and lowered the stair for me, and then closed my door, with a grin stretching across his face.

“Where to sir?” asked the coachman.

“To Mr. Senioret’s home and to the grand gala” I responded happily.

The coach surged forward, and I watched as Gadsby’s faded behind us, and I watched the astute servant, smile at his new clothes.  If only I could do something about his hair and head!

With only a sixth of an hour until the start of the grand gala at Mr. Senioret’s home, I wondered if we would even make it in time.  No sooner had I even thought the idea, had the coachman interjected, “Sir, we are now arriving at the residence of Mr. Senioret, and at the grand gala.”

“Excellent!” I responded, with a nearly squealing delight.

From my side window, I watched as we approached the house, and gazed in amazement at the lights and festive ornaments that had been used in preparation for the incredible gala.  The coach ground to a nearly silent stop (due to the well fitted pavestones) and just as the movement ceased, the door was flung wide by my smiling servant, who stood proudly in his new clothes.

I stepped out of the couch, pausing as my foot struck the ground, for the house was magnificent and the decorations were impressive beyond my imagination.  “What time shall I return, Mr. Harkins,” asked the coachman. 

“Return an hour before the stroke of midnight.” I managed to respond, in my nearly breathless state.

“Very well sir.”  He replied to me, as he urged the horses into motion, and the coach lurched and then rolled down the drive.

I glanced back at my servant, who stood smiling, with the greatest smile I have witnessed, but still, I could not get passed the jutting forehead and thin shrift-like hair that covered his awkward head.  I smiled, removed my own top hat, and placed it squarely on his head. 

“Perfect” I said, “just perfect.”

I patted my own dark hair down flatter, and made sure that it was behind my ears and at the very least presentable, but smiled as I looked at the handsome servant that stood a half step behind me, as a servant should.

Many moments passed as I climbed the marble stairs toward the front door of the house, with my servant in tow.  When I arrived at the impressive door, I offered the invitation to the doorman, and informed him that the boy behind, was in fact my servant for the evening.  As such, we were both greeted and offered entrance to the gala.

It was then that I realized a commonality to the guests who had arrived.  Each guest, man or woman, was dressed in the very best attire, and had donned the greatest clothes that money could acquire; yet, each one had a servant in tow that was atrocious and ill-dressed.  Each servant of each guest looked as my servant had, when he had originally arrived to me.  What further disturbed me, was, as I watched, each servant knew their place, and acted just as keenly and perfectly as mine had acted.  Though, not one of them had been given proper thought or even a care!

I mingled with a few of the guests, and struck up a number of conversations to the almost same contorted end.  I greeted each guest, properly of course.  We exchanged our names, our affiliations, our business identities, our families and honors and such, and then each one, every one, asked where my knave was.  Though, he stood, as always, a half step behind me, where a proper servant should be.

“Why, this is my astute servant,” I would say, drawing my hand back and pointing to my well dressed servant.

One-by-one, the guests mocked me and my ignorance for purchasing such clothes for my servant, and for allowing him to wear the marvelous black top hat.  I could only think of them, and their impotent understanding of gentlemanly behavior and presentation.

At last, nearly at the stroke of ten, our honorable host, Mr. Senioret, emerged and greeted the host of guests with a smile and warm welcoming speech.  After his speech was done, the music began and the dancing soon followed.  Women waltzed round the floor, with their men leading the way, forming an undulating mass of people, in beautifully dressed attire, ringed in horribly dressed and awkwardly appearing servants.

Mr. Senioret, made his way around, greeting each guest individually, but he stopped in his approach to me.

“Dear sir,” he began with a hint of inquisition to his tone and speech, “where is the young lad that I had sent to you as your servant for the evening?”

“Why Mr. Senioret, he is here,” I offered, again extending my hand to the well dressed lad and servant, a half step behind me.

“Why did you dress him as such?” he asked as he closed that last few steps and extended a hand, in greeting.

“Sir, if I was to come dressed, and my servant not, despite his appearance physically speaking, then would I be dressed for such an occasion really at all?” I responded firmly shaking the hand, which was extended.

“But why the top hat?”

“Indeed,” I smiled, “it was the part that he needed the most.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Why is that?”

I turned back to my proudly standing servant boy, “remove your top hat for a moment.”

He removed it slowly, and let the thin strands of straw-like hair fall down, cascading over his jutting forehead.

“I see,” Mr. Senioret smiled, “I would have done the same.”

“I am glad to think that, sir” I responded, with a smile spreading across my face.  To think that a man of such wisdom, and relative understanding, a gentleman such as Mr. Senioret would have done the same as I–what a treasured thought indeed.