I had my day;
pomps and attentions and powers. But I was laid away in a mummy
case--did that in those days--thous'n's and thous'n's of years before
you were ever born--an' that time I was Napoleon ..."
He stopped suddenly, feeling that the room had grown still. He had been
hearing a voice, and the voice was his own. What had he said? Had he
told them he was nothing, after all? He gazed from face to face with
consternation. They looked at him so curiously. There was an
embarrassing pause.
The flapper, he saw, was patting his hand at the table's edge.
"No one ever hurt you while I'm around," he said, and then he glared
defiantly at the others. The old gentleman, whose young friend he was,
began an anecdote, saying that of course he couldn't render the Irish
dialect, also that if they had heard it before they were to be sure and
let him know. Apparently no one had heard it before, although Breede
left the table for the telephone.
Bean kept the flapper's hand in his. And when the anecdote was concluded
everybody arose under cover of the applause, and they were in that
drawing-room again where the thing had happened.
The waster chattered volubly to every one. Grandma and the bride's
mother were in earnest but subdued talk in a far corner. Breede came to
them.
"Chap's plain dotty," said Breede. "Knew something was wrong."
"Your mother's doing," said Mrs. Breede.
"U-u-u-mm!" said the Demon.
Pages:
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267