“Your man! Is he always like that?—I mean going on like a frightful music-hall comedian, dancing, you know? And, I say, what on earth language was that he was talking? I couldn’t understand one word in ten.”
“Oh, that’s American—the Bowery variety.”
“Oh! Well, I suppose it’s all right if you understand it. I can’t. By Gad!” he broke off, with a chuckle, “I’d give something to see him talking to old Saunders, our butler at home. He’s got the manners of a duke.”
“Spike should revise those,” said Jimmy.
“What do you call him?”
“Spike.”
“Rummy name, isn’t it?”
“Fashionable in the States; short for Algernon.”
“He seemed pretty chummy.”
“That’s his independent bringing-up. They’re all like that in America.”