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"'Azel 'oo, 'Azel what and say 'sir' next time, if you please." "Hazel Bowker, sir," and she dropped him a little curtsey, spoiled somewhat by agitation and her crutch. "Bowker Bowker?" mused Mr. Brimberly. "I've 'eard the name I don't like the name, but I've 'eard it." "My daddy works here, sir," said Hazel timidly. "Bowker Bowker!" repeated Mr. Brimberly.
Nevertheless Mr. Brimberly was bored and dropping the paper, languidly cherished a languorous whisker, staring dull-eyed across stately terraces and wide, neat lawns to where, beyond winding yew walks and noble trees, the distant river flowed.
Brimberly, having dined well as was his custom, lay at his ease in a luxurious lounge chair in the shade of the piazza; the day was hot, wherefore on a table at his elbow was a syphon, a bottle, and a long glass in which ice tinkled alluringly; between his plump fingers was a large cigar and across his plump knees was an open paper over which he yawned and puffed and sipped in turn.
"My word!" said Mr. Brimberly. Soapy was alone, which in itself was no new thing, for Soapy was a solitary soul at all times; but just now he sat close against the rotting fence which skirted that desolation behind O'Rourke's saloon. Moreover, it was night, and solitude profound was his.
"Sir," sighed Mr. Brimberly in gentle reproach, "you 'ere be'old Cognac brandy as couldn't be acquired for twenty-five dollars the bottle! Then 'ere we 'ave jubilee port, a rare old sherry, and whisky. Now what shall we make it? You, being like myself, a Englishman in this 'ere land of eagles, spread and otherwise, suppose we make it a B and a Hess?" "By all means!" nodded Mr. Stevens.
But scarcely had he taken three steps when he paused suddenly and stood rigid and motionless, his staring gaze fixed upon the nearest window; for from the shadowy world beyond came a sound, faint as yet and far away, but a sound there was no mistaking the dismal tooting of an automobile horn. "'Eavens an' earth!" exclaimed Mr. Brimberly, and crossing to the window he peered out.
"Good night, sir, but first can't I do hanything?" "Oh, yes, you do me, of course. You do me so consistently and well that I really ought to raise your wages. I'll think about it." Mr. Brimberly stared, coughed, and fumbled for his whisker, whence his hand wandered to his brow and hovered there. "I I bid you good night, sir!" "Oh, by the way, bring me the letters."
I'll 'um you the hair with pleasure." Mr. Brimberly cleared his throat vigorously and thereafter emitted certain rumbling noises, whereat Mr. Jenkins cocked a knowing head. "C sharp, I think?" he announced. "Not much, Jenk!" said Mr. Stevens decidedly, "it was D flat as flat a D as ever I heard!" "It was C!" Mr. Jenkins said, "I appeal to Brim." "Well," said Mr.
"'Oly 'eavens!" murmured Mr. Brimberly in a faint voice. The visitor, settling his bony elbows more comfortably, fanned himself until his sparse locks waved gently to and fro, and, nodding, spoke these words: "Oh, wake thee, oh, wake thee, my bonny bird, Oh, wake and sleep no more; Thy pretty pipe I 'ave n't 'eard, But, lumme, how you snore!" Mr. Brimberly stared; Mr.
Brimberly, turning his whiskers full upon Spike, who immediately fell to shuffling and wringing at his cap. "Sir I will, certingly, sir." Now when the door had shut after his master, Mr. Brimberly raised eyes and hands to the ceiling and shook his head until his whiskers quivered. Quoth he: "Hall I arsks is wot next!"
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