The ladies both broke in at this, rather sputteringly, but Cousin Egbert silenced them.
“Shake dice for him,” he said—“poker dice, three throws, aces low.”
“How shockingly vulgar!” hissed Mrs. Belknap-Jackson.
“Even if there were no other reason for his coming to us,” remarked her husband coldly, “there are certain unfortunate associations which ought to make his entertainment here quite impossible.”
“If you’re calling me ‘unfortunate associations,’” remarked Cousin Egbert, “you want to get it out of your head right off. I don’t mind telling you, the Judge and I get along fine together. I told him when I was in Paris and Europe to look me up the first thing if ever he come here, and he said he sure would. The Judge is some mixer, believe me!”
“The ‘Judge’!” echoed the Belknap-Jacksons in deep disgust.
“You come right down to it—I bet a cookie he stays just where I tell him to stay,” insisted Cousin Egbert. The evident conviction of his tone alarmed his hearers, who regarded each other with pained speculation.
“Right where I tell him to stay and no place else,” insisted Cousin Egbert, sensing the impression he had made.
“But this is too monstrous!” said Mr. Jackson, regarding me imploringly.
“The Honourable George,” I admitted, “has been known to do unexpected things, and there have been times when he was not as sensitive as I could wish to the demands of his caste——”