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They said she stayed on in business to avoid lonesomeness and to keep in touch with all that was going on in the life that had been hers from girlhood. "And she's a mixer," said Maud to Susan. In response to Susan's look of inquiry, she went on to explain, "A mixer's a white woman that keeps a colored man." Maud laughed at Susan's expression of horror. "You are a greenie," she mocked.
Effie, though he was obliged to include the Mixer, from whom her ladyship bluntly refused to be separated. I inferred that she must have found the time and seclusion in which to weep a bit on the Mixer's shoulder. The waist of the latter's purple satin gown was quite spotty at the height of her ladyship's eyes.
I still seem to hear the organ, strains of "The Voice That Breathed Through Eden," as we neared the altar; also the Mixer's rumbling whisper about a lost handkerchief which she apparently found herself needing at that moment. The responses of bride and groom were unhesitating, even firm.
Morning found the three of us engrossed with the new plan, and by the time our guest rode away after luncheon the thing was well forward and I had the Mixer's order upon her estate agent at Red Gap for admission to the vacant premises. During the remainder of the day, between games of cribbage, Cousin Egbert and I discussed the venture. And it was now that I began to foresee a certain difficulty.
Also I found food for profound meditation in the Mixer's assertion that the woman's sole aim was to "make a monkey" of the Honourable George. If she were right, a mesalliance need not be feared, at which thought I felt a great relief.
That she should achieve the lesser and perhaps equally easy feat with the poor chap was a calamity that would be, I fancied, endured by his lordship with a serene fortitude. Curiously enough, as I went over the Mixer's tirade point by point, I found in myself an inexplicable loss of animus toward the Klondike woman.
"How do do, Earl; I'm right glad to meet you," had been the Mixer's acknowledgment, together with a hearty grasp of the hand. I saw his lordship's face brighten. "What ho!" he cried with the first cheerfulness he had exhibited, and the Mixer, still vigorously pumping his hand, had replied, "Same here!" with a vast smile of good nature.
I heard the Mixer's amazing presentation speech. "Mrs. Kenner, Mr. Floud, his lordship say, listen here, is your right name Brinstead, or Basingwell, like your brother's?" The Klondike person acknowledged the thing with a faintly gracious nod. It carried an air, despite the slightness of it. Cousin Egbert was more cordial. "Pleased to meet you, Lord!" said he, and grasped the newcomer's hand.
I'm good at going into debt and counting chicks before they hatch, and I can roll a cigarette or referee a wrestling match. "There was a time," the merchant said, "when qualities like those were fine; alas, those good old days are dead! The mixer's fallen out of line! The business houses turn him down, and customers no longer sigh for one to show them through the town, and open pints of Extra Dry!
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