Jack pointed to his cavalcade waiting in the half shadows, where the lamp-rays grew thin. Wrath of God's bony face was pointed lugubriously toward the door; Jag Ear was wiggling his fragment of ear.
"And Moses on the mountain-top says that you stay!" declared
Jasper Ewold.
Jack looked at Mary. She had not spoken yet and he waited on her word.
"Please do!" she said. "Father wants someone to talk to."
"Yes, Sir Chaps, I shall talk; otherwise, why was man given a tongue in his head and ideas?"
Refusal was out of the question. Accordingly, Firio was sent on to make camp alone.
"Now, Sir Chaps, now, Mr.—" began Jasper Ewold, pausing blankly. "Why,
Mary, you have not given me his city directory name!"
"Mr.—" and Mary blushed. She could only pass the, blame back to the
Eternal Painter's oversight in their introduction.
"Jack Wingfield!" said Jack, on his own account.
"Jack Wingfield!" repeated Jasper Ewold, tasting the name.