But, then, I recalled, as well, the city where their
so-called parliament assembles, Washington, D. C. Doubtless the
initials indicate that it was named in "honour" of another member of
this notorious family. I could not but reflect how shocked our King
would be to learn of this effrontery.
Cousin Egbert, who had been for some moments moving his lips without
sound, here spoke:
"I'm going to try it myself," he said. "Here, Charley, veesky-soda! He
made me right off," he continued as the waiter disappeared. "Say,
Jeff, I bet I could have learned a lot of this language if I'd had
some one like you around."
"Well, it took me some time to get the accent," replied the other with
a modesty which I could detect was assumed. More acutely than ever was
I conscious of a psychic warning to separate these two, and I resolved
to act upon it with the utmost diplomacy. The third whiskey and soda
was served us.
"Three rousing cheers!" said Cousin Egbert.
"Here's looking at you!" said the other, and I drank. When my glass was
drained I arose briskly and said:
"I think we should be getting along now, sir, if Mr. Tuttle will be
good enough to excuse us." They both stared at me.
"Yes, sir--I fancy not, sir," said Cousin Egbert.
"Stop your kidding, you fat rascal!" said the other.
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