'He does indeed--one of those
Hammersmith twin louts was with him--the speckled devil with the lisp, I
gather--and praise God his bones, at least, are broke in two places!'
"Ellabelle's eyes shined up at this with real delight. 'How terrible!'
she says, not looking it. 'That's Gerald Hammersmith, son of Mrs. St.
John Hammersmith, leader of the most exclusive set here--oh, she's quite
in the lead of everything that has class! And after this we must know
each other far, far better than we have in the past. She has never
called up to this time. I must inquire after her poor boy directly
to-morrow comes.' That is Ellabelle. Trust her not to overlook a single
bet.
"Angus again snorted in a common way. 'St. John Hammersmith!' says he,
steaming up, 'When he trammed ore for three-fifty a day and went to bed
with his clothes on any night he'd the price of a quart of gin-and-beer
mixed--liking to get his quick--his name was naked 'John' with never a
Saint to it, which his widow tacked on a dozen years later. And speaking
of names, Mrs. McDonald, I sorely regret you didn't name your own son
after your first willful fancy.
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