Gussie's Vacation Revisited

With resolution and determination, my aunt added, "And do it at once." She was shaking her cap in her clenched hand. The waiter immediately withdrew to make the exchange. I turned my head so as not to laugh, then came directly back, straight-faced again. It was on his return that I took a good look at the waiter. He did not know me, but I knew him in a moment---

My cabana... It was Tanner... Sparkling sunshine on the water and everything was done in the kindest and best way we know. That Jefferson monster brought my jacket on cool evenings, but more fondly I recall Tanner in the days and I thought he would have remembered too. I stretched my neck eagerly to look for recognition, but it was gone astray.

My aunt did not notice. She commented on the new choice of desserts, and how they seemed bland, chocolate and vanilla, black and white.

"Well, ma'am," said the slavonic cheerfully, "I am not bigoted to my plans that I thought it best to make no advances. The main object on my mind-" He was surely to explain further, but suddenly stopped and addressed me, "I remember you very well, gosling, for paying gratitude for care, and your beautiful look, and those were such fervent days in London."

London? I thought. LONDON? There's no beach in London. If I liked it either on my way down into Suffolk or in coming back, well... No boy, in a word it was good acropolis and thus Greece. I recall well, for Norbert was very glad to see me and told me that the house had not been like itself since being in a beastly condition, and our house tedious enough I remained there that night instead of going on.

I huffed at Tanner, he was extinguished and dreadfully young. It was curious and interesting nevertheless to walk across me more like a fly than a human being, while the horses were at a canter. I decided not to launch an oratory aerodynamic and vitrious as sulfonamide. I perused Tanner's tray of delights and chose from the back of a centre box.

My response to him was simply, "Beg pardon, you must be mistaken."

He leaned in my ear and said, "You don't remember me, I am afraid. My God..." he suddenly exclaimed, "Isn't it little Jensen?"

I glared. It was his memory that failed or his intent to bemuse. "If you dont mind, Augustina would be more correct." Which is of course how he came to 'gosling' and I knew it.

With a fast beating heart I waved him off. He backed away with a sorrowful look that seemed to say, "Won't you speak to me?" My return obviously denied it.

When he'd left our table finally, my aunt crumbled her own commentary, "That ain't a sort of man to see sitting behind a coach box, is it?"

She was right. Neither coach box nor cabana, not in London, nor in Greece. Not ever again.