One of his own
rank and file put the matter brutally when he asked Yeere, in reference to
nothing, "And who has been making you a Member of Council, lately? You carry
the side of half a dozen of 'em."
"I--I'm awf'ly sorry. I didn't mean it, you know," said Yeere, apologetically.
"There'll be no holding you," continued the old stager, grimly. "Climb down,
Otis--climb down, and get all that beastly affectation knocked out of you with
fever! Three thousand a month wouldn't support it."
Yeere repeated the incident to Mrs. Hauksbee. He had come to look upon her as
his Mother Confessor.
"And you apologized!" she said. "Oh, shame! I hate a man who apologizes. Never
apologize for what your friend called 'side.' Never! It's a man's business to
be insolent and overbearing until he meets with a stronger. Now, you bad boy,
listen to me."
Simply and straightforwardly, as the 'rickshaw loitered round Jakko, Mrs.
Hauksbee preached to Otis Yeere the Great Gospel of Conceit, illustrating it
with living pictures encountered during their Sunday afternoon stroll.
"Good gracious!" she ended, with the personal argument, "you'll apologize next
for being my attache?"
"Never!" said Otis Yeere. "That's another thing altogether.
Pages:
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380