Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman
name, I took it on myself to have Mr. Apple-pie-bed pointed out to me; I asked him if he didn’t think that perhaps he was being a little high-handed. I don’t allow every Chinese grocer to take liberties with me. He said: ‘I’m sorry the feller should be a relation of yours, but for the sake of the club I must stick to what I threatened. You’d better report me to the committee when it’s all over, and we shall then see whether, on a show-down, my action is approved.’ That, my dear Ann, is all I know; but, in case you’re not aware of it, any reflection on a man I’ve supported at a club is a reflection on me; if the young cub had been pilled, I should have had to resign; if he gets hoofed out, people will want to know why the hell I ever backed him. . .”
As you know, I am always lost in admiration of Spenworth’s elegance of diction. And all delivered as though he were cheering hounds on to a line. Everything in my poor little house trembled. . .
Truly honestly I had no idea that men in their clubs could be such great babies. . .
“Sir Appleton Deepe—that is his name, Spenworth; I am not sure whether you were trying to be facetious—,” I said, “is evidently a queer-tempered man. I have had evidence of it before. Should you engage in conversation
286
