From where I sat I could
perceive the circle of gaudily painted beasts that revolved about this
musical atrocity. A fashion of horses seemed to predominate, but there
was also an ostrich (a bearded Frenchman being astride this bird for
the moment), a zebra, a lion, and a gaudily emblazoned giraffe. I
shuddered as I thought of the evil possibilities that might be
suggested to my two companions by this affair. For the moment I was
pleased to note that they had forgotten my supposed indisposition, yet
another equally absurd complication ensued when the drink arrived.
"Say, don't your friend ever loosen up?" asked the Tuttle person of
Cousin Egbert.
"Tighter than Dick's hatband," replied the latter.
"And then some! He ain't bought once. Say, Bo," he continued to me as
I was striving to divine the drift of these comments, "have I got my
fingers crossed or not?"
Seeing that he held one hand behind him I thought to humour him by
saying, "I fancy so, sir."
"He means 'yes,'" said Cousin Egbert.
The other held his hand before me with the first two fingers spread
wide apart. "You lost," he said. "How's that, Sour-dough? We stuck him
the first rattle out of the box."
"Good work," said Cousin Egbert. "You're stuck for this round," he
added to me.
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