A GLITTERING NIGHT FLOWER--THE USE OF A NAME
Drouet did not call that evening.After receiving the letter, he had laid aside all thought of Carrie for the time being and was floating around having what he considered a gay time.On this particular evening he dined at "Rector's," a restaurant of some local fame, which occupied a basement at Clark and Monroe Streets.There--after he visited the resort of Fitzgerald and Moy's in Adams Street, opposite the imposing Federal Building.
There he leaned over the splendid bar and swallowed a glass of plain whiskey and purchased a couple of cigars, one of which he lighted.This to him represented in part high life--a fair sample of what the whole must be.Drouet was not a drinker in excess.He was not a moneyed man.He only craved the best, as his mind conceived it, and such doings seemed to him a part of the best.Rector's, with its polished marble walls and floor, its profusion of lights, its show of china and silverware, and, above all, its reputation as a resort for actors and professional men, seemed to him the proper place for a successful man to go.
He loved fine clothes, good eating, and particularly the company and acquaintanceship of successful men.When dining, it was a source of keen satisfaction to him to know that Joseph Jefferson was wont to come to this same place, or that Henry E.Dixie, a well-known performer of the day, was then only a few tables off.
At Rector's he could always obtain this satisfaction, for there one could encounter politicians, brokers, actors, some rich young "rounders" of the town, all eating and drinking amid a buzz of popular commonplace conversation.
"That's So-and-so over there," was a common remark of these gentlemen among themselves, particularly among those who had not yet reached, but hoped to do so, the dazzling height which money to dine here lavishly represented.
"You don't say so," would be the reply.
"Why, yes, didn't you know that? Why, he's manager of the Grand Opera House."
When these things would fall upon Drouet's ears, he would straighten himself a little more stiffly and eat with solid comfort.If he had any vanity, this augmented it, and if he had any ambition, this stirred it.He would be able to flash a roll of greenbacks too some day.As it was, he could eat where THEY
did.
His preference for Fitzgerald and Moy's Adams Street place was another yard off the same cloth.This was really a gorgeous saloon from a Chicago standpoint.Like Rector's, it was also ornamented with a blaze of incandescent lights, held in handsome chandeliers.The floors were of brightly coloured tiles, the walls a composition of rich, dark, polished wood, which reflected the light, and coloured stucco-work, which gave the place a very sumptuous appearance.The long bar was a blaze of lights, polished woodwork, coloured and cut glassware, and many fancy bottles.It was a truly swell saloon, with rich screens, fancy wines, and a line of bar goods unsurpassed in the country.
At Rector's, Drouet had met Mr.G.W.Hurstwood, manager of Fitzgerald and Moy's.He had been pointed out as a very successful and well-known man about town.Hurstwood looked the part, for, besides being slightly under forty, he had a good, stout constitution, an active manner, and a solid, substantial air, which was composed in part of his fine clothes, his clean linen, his jewels, and, above all, his own sense of his importance.Drouet immediately conceived a notion of him as being some one worth knowing, and was glad not only to meet him, but to visit the Adams Street bar thereafter whenever he wanted a drink or a cigar.
Hurstwood was an interesting character after his kind.He was shrewd and clever in many little things, and capable of creating a good impression.His managerial position was fairly important--
a kind of stewardship which was imposing, but lacked financial control.He had risen by perseverance and industry, through long years of service, from the position of barkeeper in a commonplace saloon to his present altitude.He had a little office in the place, set off in polished cherry and grill-work, where he kept, in a roll-top desk, the rather ****** accounts of the place--
supplies ordered and needed.The chief executive and financial functions devolved upon the owners--Messrs.Fitzgerald and Moy--
and upon a cashier who looked after the money taken in.
For the most part he lounged about, dressed in excellent tailored suits of imported goods, a solitaire ring, a fine blue diamond in his tie, a striking vest of some new pattern, and a watch-chain of solid gold, which held a charm of rich design, and a watch of the latest make and engraving.He knew by name, and could greet personally with a "Well, old fellow," hundreds of actors, merchants, politicians, and the general run of successful characters about town, and it was part of his success to do so.
He had a finely graduated scale of informality and friendship, which improved from the "How do you do?" addressed to the fifteen-dollar-a-week clerks and office attaches, who, by long frequenting of the place, became aware of his position, to the "Why, old man, how are you?" which he addressed to those noted or rich individuals who knew him and were inclined to be friendly.
