That sort of thing would never do with us.
"Here, George," he immediately called to the waiter, for they had
quickly drained their glasses, "tell the bartender three more. By
gosh! but that's good, after the way I've been held down."
"Me, too," said Cousin Egbert. "I didn't know how to say it in
French."
"The Reverend held me down," continued the Tuttle person. "'A glass of
native wine,' he says, 'may perhaps be taken now and then without
harm.' 'Well,' I says, 'leave us have ales, wines, liquors, and
cigars,' I says, but not him. I'd get a thimbleful of elderberry wine
or something about every second Friday, except when I'd duck out the
side door of a church and find some caffy. Here, George, foomer,
foomer--bring us some seegars, and then stay on that spot--I may want
you."
"Well, well!" said Cousin Egbert again, as if the meeting were still
incredible.
"You old stinging-lizard!" responded the other affectionately. The
cigars were brought and I felt constrained to light one.
"The State of Washington needn't ever get nervous over the prospect of
losing me," said the Tuttle person, biting off the end of his cigar.
I gathered at once that the Americans have actually named one of our
colonies "Washington" after the rebel George Washington, though one
would have thought that the indelicacy of this would have been only
too apparent.
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