“P-pardon, lady,” he said, “but couldn’t leave without exchangin’ comp’ments sheason with lady th’ house. ’Gainst princ’ples gen’leman do sho.”
And then he began the ancient salutation that was a tradition in the House when men wore lace ruffles and powder.
“The blessings of another year—”
Fuzzy’s memory failed him. The Lady prompted:
“—Be upon this hearth.”
“—The guest—” stammered Fuzzy.
“—And upon her who—” continued the Lady, with a leading smile.
“Oh, cut it out,” said Fuzzy, ill-manneredly. “I can’t remember. Drink hearty.”
Fuzzy had shot his arrow. They drank. The Lady smiled again the smile of her caste. James enveloped and re-conducted him toward the front door. The harp music still softly drifted through the house.
Outside, Black Riley breathed on his cold hands and hugged the gate.