I mean to say, at the next ball of the series I may even see that the
fellow Hobbs has a card if I can become assured that he has quite
freed himself from certain debasing class-ideals of his native
country. This to be sure is an extreme case, because the fellow is
that type of our serving class to whom equality is unthinkable. They
must, from their centuries of servility, look either up or down; and I
scarce know in which attitude they are more offensive to our American
point of view. Still I mean to be broad. Even Hobbs shall have his
chance with us!
* * * * *
It is late June. Mrs. Ruggles and I are comfortably installed in her
enlarged and repaired house. We have a fowl-run on a stretch of her
free-hold, and the kitchen-garden thrives under the care of the
Japanese agricultural labourer I have employed.
Already I have discharged more than half my debt to Cousin Egbert, who
exclaims, "Oh, shucks!" each time I make him a payment. He and the
Honourable George remain pally no end and spend much of their abundant
leisure at Cousin Egbert's modest country house. At times when they
are in town they rather consort with street persons, but such is the
breadth of our social scheme that I shall never exclude them from our
gayeties, though it is true that more often than not they decline to
be present.
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