Indeed, Cousin Egbert had been loudly arrogant in
the matter, speaking largely of his European intimacy with the "Judge"
until, as he confided to me, he "had them all bisoned," or, I believe,
"buffaloed" is the term he used, referring to the big-game animal that
has been swept from the American savannahs.
At all events no one further questioned his right to be at the station
when the Honourable George arrived, and for the first time almost
since his own homecoming he got himself up with some attention to
detail. If left to himself I dare say he would have donned frock-coat
and top-hat, but at my suggestion he chose his smartest lounge-suit,
and I took pains to see that the minor details of hat, boots, hose,
gloves, etc., were studiously correct without being at all assertive.
For my own part, I was also at some pains with my attire going
consciously a bit further with details than Cousin Egbert, thinking it
best the Honourable George should at once observe a change in my
bearing and social consequence so that nothing in his manner toward me
might embarrassingly publish our former relations. The stick, gloves,
and monocle would achieve this for the moment, and once alone I meant
to tell him straight that all was over between us as master and man,
we having passed out of each other's lives in that respect.
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