The item said the family had taken apartments
at Red Gap's premier hotel _de luxe_, the American House; and Cousin
Egbert, being told a million dollars was bet that he never could guess
how the name was pronounced in English, he up and said you couldn't fool
him; that it was pronounced Chumley, which was just like the old
smarty--only he give in that he was surprised when told how it really
was pronounced; and he said if a party's name was Postlethwaite why
couldn't they come out and say so like a man, instead of beating round
the bush like that? All of which was promising enough; but then came the
Hereford yearlings to effect a breach of continuity.
These being enough admired, I had next to be told that I wouldn't
believe how many folks was certain she had retired to the country
because she was lazy, just keeping a few head of cattle for
diversion--she that had six thousand acres of land under fence, and had
made a going concern _per diem_ of it for thirty years, even if parties
did make cracks about her gates; but hardly ever getting a good night's
sleep through having a "passel" of men to run it that you couldn't
depend on--though God only knew where you could find any other sort--the
minute your back was turned.
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