Constructing Wilde

Part 1

Huffing, Oscar focused on the sandwiches and muffins that Frank was setting on the table. Sure enough, on a separate plate, Frank had brought in the tea cakes. Now, Oscar, being the sensible sort that he was, despised tea cake; he much preferred the cucumber sandwiches and tea that he was used to from his early childhood and teen years. Once having acquired a taste for something and a dislike for another, it was rather difficult to change it, Oscar found.

Taking a giant bite of a cucumber sandwich, Frank settled down into the chair opposite Oscar with a muffled sigh. Crumbs dropped down the front of his waistcoat; among other things, Frank wasn't the neatest eater, which was, of course, to be expected considering his high propensity for ignoring the dictates of Society, one of which was to eat neatly and with a closed mouth.

Ever the polite one, Oscar inquired, "Might I have one of the sandwiches, Frank?"

Frank's eyes widened; and shaking his head, he laughed. "Dear boy, the sandwiches are for tea! We mustn't eat them all before Aunt Augusta and Lillie get here; I happen to know they are quite fond of the cucumber sandwiches."

"And by we, you mean I mustn't eat them all," retorted Oscar, crossing his arms.

"I said nothing of the sort," protested Frank.

"But it is, in practice, exactly what you intended," contended Oscar. "Because you have now eaten one and a half of the very sandwiches you claim we mustn't eat."

"Well, so I have. But I said we mustn't eat them all," argued Frank.

"But I mustn't have any?"

"You speak in riddles, my friend. Just say whatever it is you intend to say and get on with life, why don't you?" asked Frank around a mouthful of sandwich.

Oscar rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air. "I would like one of the sandwiches or at the least a muffin because I find myself famished after all that time spent walking and visiting this morning."

"Why didn't you say so?" cried Frank, reaching for another sandwich. "But I've just heard that it isn't good for those of a thin, lanky build to go eating rich foods like that after a great amount of exercise; upsets the digestion, they say. Have a tea cake? I'm sure it's much better for you."

Oscar frowned down at the plate; Frank was, naturally, aware that he couldn't stand tea cakes. The two were friends, and they had been for years. He distinctly recalled mentioning to Frank that he couldn't bear to eat them; in fact, he'd made a point of it several times, so he couldn't see why his friend didn't seem to remember. "I don't like tea-cakes, Frank."

"Pfft..." huffed Frank, spraying crumbs everywhere. "That's nonsense; everyone loves a good tea cake."

By now, the sandwiches were nearly gone, and only the muffins and tea-cakes sat untouched. "Lane!" shouted Frank.

The venerable butler ghosted into the room as was his usual behavior. "Yes, Mr. Miles?"

"Might you bring some more of these sandwiches up; and while you're at it, fetch a pitcher of cold water with a few glasses. I'm famished, and dinner isn't for another few hours."

"Of course, sir. There is, sadly, a problem with fetching more sandwiches."

"Well, what is it?" inquired Frank irritably.

"There are no more cucumbers to be had, I'm afraid, sir," said the butler, all the while affecting great sorrow over the fact.

Oscar stifled a laugh; if anyone knew what a contrived look of sadness was, it was he. He knew just how to act and speak to uphold the image of a fine society dandy like Frank, and it was something he took great pride in. Butlers were, quite obviously, no less adept at this skill. Frank, ever the oblivious one, had no inkling of the insincerity of the butler. This was no fault of his own, of course; one couldn't expect someone who believed everyone was sincere to spot insincerity in another human being.