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"I have never start a private graveyard," he replied, "for reason I am afraid to hurt anyone. But I am Wampus. If Mister Algy he dance to-night, somebody mus' lead him, for he will be blind." "I never met such a lawless brood in my life," prowled the Major, indignantly. "If they were in New York they'd be put behind the bars in two minutes."
Algy's is plum-color. The arms of all three are very, very tight. Had our ancestors indeed such skinny limbs, and such prodigious backs? Algy is a tall young man, but the waist of his coat is somewhere about the calves of his legs. It has told upon his spirits; he looks supernaturally grave. Mr. Parker is differently visited. He has an apparently unaccountable reluctance to turning his back to me.
"Chappie was perfectly right!" "No, but I mean . . ." "Absolutely correct-o," insisted Algy sternly. "Underhill can't dash about all over the place giving the girl he's engaged to the mitten because she's broke, and expect no notice to be taken of it.
I do not often laugh now; but I did laugh loudly and long the other day, although I was quite alone, when I thought of my wily purpose of setting Roger on his guard against Mrs. Huntley's little sugared unveracities. No, I never tell him about Algy! Why should I? it would be wasted breath spent words. He would not believe me.
"Suminagot!" said Algy. "All time too muchee monkey fooling! My dinner not git leady, Van, you savvy that? What's mallah you?" Van ignored the cook, in addressing the men. "It's your earnest desire to apologize, boys, I believe," he said. "All in favor will please say Aye." The men said Aye in growlings, rumblings, and pipings. Van addressed his cook. "Do you want them to kiss your hand?" "Ah!
Every vase and jug, and cup, and pot and pan and pipkin that we can command, is crammed with heavy-headed daffodils, with pale-cheeked primroses, with wine-colored gilly-flowers, every thing that spring has thrust most plentifully into our eager hands. The boys have been out fishing. Algy and Bobby have been humorously trying to drown the Brat.
I don't think I'll have Lord Suckling for my partner any more," she said, putting up her wand, and pouting. "You don't bear malice?" said Algernon, revived. "There is my hand. Now you must play a game alone with Lord Suckling, and beat him; mind you beat him, or it will redound to my discredit." With which, she and Edward left them. "Algy was a little crestfallen, and no wonder," she said.
"You ought to make your old man 'auld Robin Gray' mind you," he says, with a disagreeable laugh. "It is his business, but he does not seem to see it, does he? ha! ha!" "I wish!" cry I, passionately; then I stop myself. After all, he is hardly himself to-night, poor Algy!
"If John Flint's not fancy enough for you," he suggested truculently, "suppose you call me Percy? Some peach of a moniker, Percy, ain't it?" "Percy?" "Sure, Percy," he grinned impudently. "But if you got a grouch against Percy, can it, and make me Algy. I don't mind. It's not me beefing about monikers; it's you."
A period of quiet elapses, during which, for the sake of appearances, I turn over a page. By-and-by, he speaks. "Algy is your eldest brother, is not he? get away, you little beast!" "I thought so," with a slight accent of satisfaction.
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