"Didn't I tell you he was some mixer?" demanded Cousin
Egbert of me, but I was too sickened to make any suitable response.
The Honourable George's possession of a single spat was now flaunted,
as it were, in the face of Red Gap's best families.
"How foreign it all is!" he repeated, turning back to us, yet with
only his side-glance for me. "But the American Johnny in London had a
much smarter coach than this, and better animals, too. You're not up
to his class yet, old thing!"
"That dish-faced pinto on the off side," remarked the driver, "can
outrun anything in this town for fun, money, or marbles."
"Marbles!" called the Honourable George to us; "why marbles? Silly
things! It's all bally strange! And why do your villagers stare so?"
"Some little mixer, all right, all right," murmured Cousin Egbert in a
sort of ecstasy, as we drew up at the Floud home. "And yet one of them
guys back there called him a typical Britisher. You bet I shut him up
quick--saying a thing like that about a plumb stranger. I'd 'a' mixed
it with him right there except I thought it was better to have things
nice and not start something the minute the Judge got here."
With all possible speed I hurried the party indoors, for already faces
were appearing at the windows of neighbouring houses.
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