Only, for heaven's sake,
keep your eye on Cousin Egbert!"
"I shall do my duty, Madam," I returned, thinking it all rather
morbidly interesting, these weird details about their county families.
"I'm sure you will," she said at parting. "I feel that we shall do
things right this year. Last year the Sunday Spokane paper used to
have nearly a column under the heading 'Social Doings of Red Gap's
Smart Set.' This year we'll have a good two columns, if I don't miss
my guess."
In the smoking-compartment I found Cousin Egbert staring gloomily into
vacancy, as one might say, the reason I knew being that he had vainly
pleaded with Mrs. Effie to be allowed to spend this time at their
Coney Island, which is a sort of Brighton. He transferred his stare to
me, but it lost none of its gloom.
"Hell begins to pop!" said he.
"Referring to what, sir?" I rejoined with some severity, for I have
never held with profanity.
"Referring to Charles Belknap Hyphen Jackson of Boston, Mass.," said
he, "the greatest little trouble-maker that ever crossed the
hills--with a bracelet on one wrist and a watch on the other and a
one-shot eyeglass and a gold cigareet case and key chains, rings,
bangles, and jewellery till he'd sink like lead if he ever fell into
the crick with all that metal on.
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