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Footease on it, and this struck him as a nuisance. His house at Bayside, which was to give him the benefit of cooling ocean breezes and eliminate the Footease, was discovered by a group of couples from the Westbury horse set. Happily, they demanded that their famous parishioner entertain them. Fields' stable lore was pretty well limited to a rear view of the ice horse he had followed in his youth, and he was further awed by the formidable lineage of the well-meaning but saddle-weary clique that had flushed him. "The fact is," says Le Baron, "they were very nice people and approached Bill in no spirit of slumming. They liked and enjoyed him both on the stage and in person."
Fields began to organize a formal dinner, though stricken with icy waves of social terror. At length, in a pitiable condition, he called Le Baron and said, "I'm in a hell of a mess. I don't know anything about dinner parties. You've got to come over here and give me a hand." Le Baron agreed to lend both his counsel and his presence, and he repaired forthwith to the battle front. Fields was wild and perspiring, but he was proceeding with great fanfare. He had put on some extra servants, including a spot butler of mien almost crushingly aristocratic. He towered over his employer, and his craggy features looked down upon a world that was patently inadequate to his background and proclivities. His name was Fillmore, but Fields, when Le Baron arrived, was addressing him as "Mr. Fillmore," and making a slight, involuntary gesture as of pulling his forelock. Toward the end of the party, by which time the comedian had recovered his composure, he was calling the butler "son" and "Bud," and ordering him about like a poodle. Fields later said he learned that Fillmore had come by his patrician attitude honestly ; he was the son of a very successful waiter and had worked for a space as doorman at a fashionable hotel.
Fields had bought a large quantity of European wines and ordered foods of the most exotic order. He had inspected a handy
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