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Updated: June 9, 2025
"I have the Wobbles estate in my pocket," replied Johnny, still watching the colonel absorbedly. "I must get you together Monday if possible." "Wobbles!" exploded Courtney. "Did you buy that Bronx property at my party from my guests to sell to us?" "I did," confessed Johnny with a grin. "This is a lovely party."
Courtney very sweetly indeed and all unheeding of the laugh, "I pick them by a better system than you employ when you invite stag parties. You usually need to be introduced to your guests. Just whom would you like to have me send home?" "Paul Gresham for one," replied Courtney bluntly, "and the entire Wobbles tribe, with their friend Birchard, for some more."
"Sartin I know yer, Mandy. You'se a good gal in you'se way, but, law! you'se had yer spell. A culled gemmen kin change his min' when he sees dat de 'finity's done gone." "Look here, Jeff Wobbles, does yer mean ter give me de sack?" "I mean ter gib yer good-ebenin', Miss Mandy Munson.
"Johnny, if you say anything I'll be peevish," protested Courtney in advance. "Please remember that the gentleman is a guest of mine." "I was grinning at something else," Johnny soothed him, still grinning, however. "I apologize," observed Courtney. "Do you think the Wobbles family will hold their conclave if each of them waits until all the others are together?" "I hope so," replied Johnny.
At the latter hour Johnny, making his tireless rounds but afflicted with despair, located Billy Wobbles, the one with the jerky eyelids and impulsive knees, on the loggia with Loring; Eugene was in the poker room trying numbly to discover the difference between a four-flush and a deuce-high hand; Tommy, his toupee well down toward his scanty white eyebrows, was boring the Courtney girls to the verge of tears; Cecil, stumbling almost rhythmically over his own calves, was playing tennis with Winnie and Sammy and Mrs.
And yonder, that old cupster, Silenus, that horrible old favourite, wobbles along on a donkey, and would tumble off, you may be sure, were he not upheld by two fairly sober Satyrs. But the eyes of Ariadne are fixed only on the smooth-faced god. See how he smiles back at her with that lascivious condescension which is all that a god's love can be for a mortal girl!
Constance had not cared for it and it was worthless! It was not until Monday that they found Eugene Wobbles, and that voluntary expatriate was almost as much taken aback as his brother Tommy had been. "Ow, I say, it's most extraordinary!" he declared, stroking his drooping mustache and swinging his monocle.
He knows too much of the game; and remember that O'Brien, if he wobbles in the socket, is by no means down yet. A man like that doesn't get knocked over like a ninepin. You may be sure he has twenty skeletons put away in good places, that he will haul out one by one, rather than let himself be squashed. He's not going to give in.
Eugene Wobbles, who tried to live down his American ancestry in London clubs and was, consequently, more British than any Englishman, came to Mr. Courtney lazily apologetic. "I fancy I'm going to give you a lot of bother, my dear Courtney," he observed, lounging feebly against the porch rail. "I prefer bother to almost anything," returned his host pleasantly; "it gives me something to do."
But other sorrowing mistresses have lost their little companions, and the inscriptions show a world of tenderness. We read, 'Alas, poor Zoe! as deeply mourned as ever dog was mourned, and 'Darling Vic, 'Snow, a dear friend, 'Loving little Charlie, 'Our faithful little friend Wobbles, 'Jack, most loving and most fondly loved, and many another.
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