"I've had to pick up a lot of their lingo."
Cousin Egbert looked at him admiringly. "Good old Jeff!" he said
simply. He glanced aside to me for a second with downright hostility,
then turned back to his friend. "Something tells me, Jeff, that this
is going to be the first happy day I've had since I crossed the state
line. I've been pestered to death, Jeff--what with Mrs. Effie after me
to improve myself so's I can be a social credit to her back in Red
Gap, and learn to wear clothes and go without my breakfast and attend
art galleries. If you'd stand by me I'd throw her down good and hard
right now, but you know what she is----"
"I sure do," put in Mr. Tuttle so fervently that I knew he spoke the
truth. "That woman can bite through nails. But here's your drink,
Sour-dough. Maybe it will cheer you up."
Extraordinary! I mean to say, biting through nails.
"Three rousing cheers!" exclaimed Cousin Egbert with more animation
than I had ever known him display.
"Here's looking at you, Colonel," said his friend to me, whereupon I
partook of the drink, not wishing to offend him. Decidedly he was not
vogue. His hat was remarkable, being of a black felt with high crown
and a wide and flopping brim. Across his waistcoat was a watch-chain
of heavy links, with a weighty charm consisting of a sculptured gold
horse in full gallop.
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