Chapter 3

           Therewasmusicfrommyneighbor’shousethroughthesummernights.Inhisbluegardensmenandgirlscameandwentlikemothsamongthewhisperingsandthechampagneandthestars.AthightideintheafternoonIwatchedhisguestsdivingfromthetowerofhisraft,ortakingthesunonthehotsandofhisbeachwhilehistwomotor-boatsslitthewatersoftheSound,drawingaquaplanesovercataractsoffoam.Onweek-endshisRolls-Roycebecameanomnibus,bearingpartiestoandfromthecitybetweennineinthemorningandlongpastmidnight,whilehisstationwagonscamperedlikeabriskyellowbugtomeetalltrains.AndonMondayseightservants,includinganextragardener,toiledalldaywithmopsandscrubbing-brushesandhammersandgarden-shears,repairingtheravagesofthenightbefore.

           EveryFridayfivecratesoforangesandlemonsarrivedfromafruitererinNewYork—everyMondaythesesameorangesandlemonslefthisbackdoorinapyramidofpulplesshalves.Therewasamachineinthekitchenwhichcouldextractthejuiceoftwohundredorangesinhalfanhourifalittlebuttonwaspressedtwohundredtimesbyabutler’sthumb.

           AtleastonceafortnightacorpsofcatererscamedownwithseveralhundredfeetofcanvasandenoughcoloredlightstomakeaChristmastreeofGatsby’senormousgarden.Onbuffettables,garnishedwithglisteninghors-d’oeuvre,spicedbakedhamscrowdedagainstsaladsofharlequindesignsandpastrypigsandturkeysbewitchedtoadarkgold.Inthemainhallabarwitharealbrassrailwassetup,andstockedwithginsandliquorsandwithcordialssolongforgottenthatmostofhisfemaleguestsweretooyoungtoknowonefromanother.

           Byseveno’clocktheorchestrahasarrived,nothinfive-pieceaffair,butawholepitfulofoboesandtrombonesandsaxophonesandviolsandcornetsandpiccolos,andlowandhighdrums.