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Wilson, Harry Leon, 1867-1939

"Ruggles of Red Gap"

Mrs. Effie, who
met us, allowed her glare at Cousin Egbert, I fancy, to affect the
cordiality of her greeting to the Honourable George; at least she
seemed to be quite as dazed as he, and there was a moment of
constraint before he went on up to the room that had been prepared for
him. Once safely within the room I contrived a moment alone with him
and removed his single spat, not too gently, I fear, for the nervous
strain since his arrival had told upon me.
"You have reason to be thankful," I said, "that Belknap-Jackson was
not present to witness this."
"They cost seven and six," he muttered, regarding the one spat
wistfully. "But why Belknap-Jackson?"
"Mr. C. Belknap-Jackson of Boston and Red Gap," I returned sternly.
"He does himself perfectly. To think he might have seen you in this
rowdyish state!" And I hastened to seek a presentable lounge-suit from
his bags.
"Everything is so strange," he muttered again, quite helplessly. "And
why the mural decoration at the edge of the settlement? Why keep one's
eye upon it? Why should they do such things? I say, it's all quite
monstrous, you know."
I saw that indeed he was quite done for with amazement, so I ran him a
bath and procured him a dish of tea. He rambled oddly at moments of
things the guard on the night-coach had told him of North America, of
Niagara Falls, and Missouri and other objects of interest.


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