ROBERTS AND CAMPBELL
Campbell: “Distinguished public character.
Well, we’re out of that, Roberts. I had
to crowd the truth a little for you, but I fetched
the belligerent McIlheny. What are you going
in for next?”
Roberts: “I—upon my word, I
haven’t the least idea. I think I shall
give up trying to identify the cook. Agnes must
do it herself when she comes here.”
Campbell: “Oh no! That won’t
do, old fellow. The cook may come here and give
you the slip before Agnes gets back.”
Roberts: “What would you do?”
Campbell: “Well, I don’t know; I
don’t like to advise, exactly; but it seems
to me you’ve got to keep trying. You’ve
got to keep your eye out for respectable butter-balls,
and not let them slip through your fingers.”
Roberts: “You mean, go up and speak to
them? I couldn’t do that again.”
Campbell: “Well, of course you didn’t
make a howling success with Mrs. McIlheny; but it
wasn’t a dead-failure either. But you must
use a little more diplomacy—lead up to
the subject gently. Don’t go and ask a
woman if she’s a cook, or had an appointment
to meet a gentleman here. That won’t
do. I’ll tell you! You might introduce
the business by asking if she had happened to see
a lady coming in or going out; and then describe Agnes,
and say you had expected to meet her here. And
she’ll say she hadn’t seen her here, but
such a lady had just engaged her as a cook. And
then you’ll say you’re the lady’s
husband, and you’re sure she’ll be in in
a moment. And there you are! That’s
the way you ought to have worked it with Mrs. McIlheny.
Then it would have come out all right.”
Roberts, pessimistically: “I don’t
see how it would have made her the cook.”
Campbell: “It couldn’t have done
that, of course; but it would have done everything
short of that. But we’re well enough out
of it, anyway. It was mighty lucky I came in
with my little amendment just when I did. There’s
all the difference in the world between asking a lady
whether she is a cook and whether she’s
seen a cook. That difference just saved
the self-respect of the McIlhenys, and saved your
life. It gave the truth a slight twist in the
right direction. You can’t be too careful
about the truth, Roberts. You can’t offer
it to people in the crude state; it’s got to
be prepared. If you’d carried it through
the way I wanted you to, the night you and old Bemis
garroted each other, you’d have come out perfectly
triumphant. What you want is not the real
truth, but the ideal truth; not what you did,
but what you ought to have done. Heigh?
Now, you see, those McIlhenys have gone off with their
susceptibilities in perfect repair, simply because
I substituted a for for an if, and made
you inquire for a cook instead of if
she was a cook. Perhaps you did ask for instead
of ask if?”
