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BOTTLE PARTY
Franklin Fletcher dreamed of luxury in the form of tiger-skins and beautiful women. He was prepared, at a pinch, to forgo the tiger-skins. Unfortunately the beautiful women seemed equally rare and inaccessible. At his office and at his boarding-house the girls were mere mice, or cattish, or kittenish, or had insufficiently read the advertisements. He met no others. At thirty-five he gave up, and decided he must console himself with a hobby, which is a very miserable second-best.
He prowled about in odd corners of the town, looking in at the windows of antique dealers and junk-shops, wondering what on earth he might collect. He came upon a poor shop, in a poor alley, in whose dusty window stood a single object: it was a full-rigged ship in a bottle. Feeling rather like that himself, he decided to go in and ask the price.
The shop was small and bare. Some shabby racks were ranged about the walls, and these racks bore a large number of bottles, of every shape and size, containing a variety of objects which were interesting only because they were in bottles. While Franklin still looked about, a little door opened, and out shuffled the proprietor, a wizened old man in a smoking-cap, who seemed mildly surprised and mildly pleased to have a customer.
He showed Franklin bouquets, and birds of paradise, and the Battle of Gettysburg, and miniature Japanese gardens, and even a shrunken human head, all stoppered up in bottles. «And what,» said Frank, «are those, down there on the bottom shelf?»
«They are not much to look at,» said the old man. «A lot of people think they are all nonsense. Personally, I like them.»
He lugged out a few specimens from their dusty obscurity. One seemed to have nothing but a little dried-up fly in it, others contained what might have been horse-hairs or straws, or mere wisps of heaven knows what; some appeared to be filled with grey or opalescent smoke. «They are,» said the old man, «various sorts of genii, ji
«Oh, but come! This is New York,» said Frank.
«All the more reason,» said the old man, «to expect the most extraordinary ji
«You mean there's one in there?» said Frank. «And you're going to let it out?»
«Why not?» replied the old man, desisting in his efforts, and holding the bottle up to the light. «This one — Good heavens! Why not, indeed! My eyes are getting weak. I very nearly undid the wrong bottle. A very ugly customer, that one! Dear me! It's just as well I didn't get that stopper undone. I'd better put him right back in the rack. I must remember he's in the lower right-hand corner. I'll stick a label on him one of these days. Here's something more harmless.»
«What's in that?» said Frank.
«Supposed to be the most beautiful girl in the world,» said the old man. «All right, if you like that sort of thing. Myself, I've never troubled to undo her. I'll find something more interesting.»
«Well, from a scientific point of view,» said Frank, «I —»
«Science isn't everything,» said the old man. «Look at this.» He held up one which contained a tiny, mummified, insect-looking object, just visible through the grime. «Put your ear to it,» he said.
Frank did so. He heard, in a sort of whistling nothing of a voice, the words, «Louisiana Lad, Saratoga, four-fifteen. Louisiana Lad, Saratoga, four-fifteen,» repeated over and over again.
«What on earth is that?» said he.
«That,» said the old man, «is the original Cumaean Sibyl. Very interesting. She's taken up racing.»
«Very interesting,» said Frank. «All the same, I'd just like to see that other. I adore beauty.»
«A bit of an artist, eh?» said the old man. «Believe me, what you really want is a good, all-around, serviceable type. Here's one, for example. I recommend this little fellow from personal experience. He's practical. He can fix you anything.»
«Well, if that's so,» said Frank, «why haven't you got a palace, tiger-skins, and all that?»
«I had all that,» said the old man. «And he fixed it. Yes, this was my first bottle. All the rest came from him. First of all I had a palace, pictures, marbles, slaves. And, as you say, tiger-skins. I had him put Cleopatra on one of them.»
«What was she like?» cried Frank.
«All right,» said old man, «if you like that sort of thing. I got bored with it. I thought to myself, 'What I'd like, really, is a little shop, with all sorts of things in bottles.' So I had him fix it. He got me the sibyl. He got me the ferocious fellow there. In fact, he got me all of them.»
«And now he's in there?» said Frank.
«Yes. He's in there,» said the old man. «Listen to him.»
Frank put his ear to the bottle. He heard, uttered in the most plaintive tones, «Let me out. Do let me out. Please let me out. I'll do anything. Let me out. I'm harmless. Please let me out. Just for a little while. Do let me out. I'll do anything. Please —»
Frank looked at the old man. «He's there all right,» he said. «He's there.»
«Of course he's there,» said the old man. «I wouldn't sell you an empty bottle. What do you take me for? In fact, I wouldn't sell this one at all, for sentimental reasons, only I've had the shop a good many years now, and you're my first customer.»
Frank put his ear to the bottle again. «Let me out. Let me out. Oh, please let me out. I'll —»
«My God!» said Frank uneasily. «Does he go on like that all the time?»
«Very probably,» said the old man. «I can't say I listen. I prefer the radio.»
«It seems rather tough on him,» said Frank sympathetically.
«Maybe, »said the old man. «They don't seem to like bottles. Personally, I do. They fascinate me. For example, I —»
«Tell me, »said Frank. «Is he really harmless?»
«Oh, yes,» said the old man. «Bless you, yes. Some say they're tricky — eastern blood and all that — I never found him so. I used to let him out; he'd do his stuff, then back he'd go again. I must say, he's very efficient.»
«He could get me anything?»
«Absolutely anything.»
«And how much do you want for him?» said Frank.
«Oh I don't know,» said the old man. «Ten million dollars, perhaps.»
«I say! I haven't got that. Still, if he's as good as you say, maybe I could work it off on the hire purchase system.»
«Don't worry. We'll say five dollars instead. I've got all I want, really. Shall I wrap him up for you ?»
Frank paid over his five dollars, and hurried home with the precious bottle, terrified of breaking it. As soon as he was in his room he pulled out the stopper. Out flowed a prodigious quantity of greasy smoke, which immediately solidified into the figure of a gross and fleshy Oriental, six feet six in height, with rolls of fat, a hook nose, a wicked white to his eye, vast double chins, altogether like a film-producer, only larger. Frank, striving desperately for something to say, ordered shashlik, kebabs, and Turkish delight. These were immediately forthcoming.
Frank, having recovered his balance, noted that these modest offerings were of surpassing quality, and set upon dishes of solid gold, superbly engraved, and polished to a dazzling brightness. It is by little details of this description that one may recognize a really first-rate servant. Frank was delighted, but restrained his enthusiasm. «Gold plates,» said he, «are all very well. Let us, however, get down to brass tacks. I should like a palace.»
«To hear,» said his dusky henchman, «is to obey.»
«It should,» said Frank, «be of suitable size, suitably situated, suitably furnished, suitable pictures, suitable marbles, hangings, and all that. I should like there to be a large number of tiger-skins. I am very fond of tiger-skins.»