Humorous stories; Valets -- Fiction; Washington (State) -- Fiction
Then at last we came to the wilderness abode of Cousin Egbert. A rude
hut of native logs it was, set in this highland glen beside a tarn.
From afar we descried its smoke, and presently in the doorway observed
Cousin Egbert himself, who waved cheerfully at us. His appearance gave
me a shock. Quite aware of his inclination to laxness, I was yet
unprepared for his present state. Never, indeed, have I seen a man so
badly turned out. Too evidently unshaven since his disappearance, he
was gotten up in a faded flannel shirt, open at the neck and without
the sign of cravat, a pair of overalls, also faded and quite wretchedly
spotty, and boots of the most shocking description. Yet in spite of
this dreadful tenue he greeted me without embarrassment and indeed
with a kind of artless pleasure. Truly the man was impossible, and when
I observed the placard he had allowed to remain on the waistband of his
overalls, boastfully alleging their indestructibility, my sympathies
flew back to Mrs. Effie. There was a cartoon emblazoned on this placard,
depicting the futile efforts of two teams of stout horses, each attached
to a leg of the garment, to wrench it in twain. I mean to say, one might
be reduced to overalls, but this blatant emblem was not a thing any
gentleman need have retained. And again, observing his footgear, I was
glad to recall that I had included a plentiful supply of boot-cream in
my scanty luggage.
Three of the goods-animals were now unladen, their burden of
provisions being piled beside the door while Cousin Egbert chatted
gayly with the cow-persons and the Indian Tuttle, after which these
three took their leave, being madly bent, it appeared, upon
penetrating still farther into the wilderness to another cattle farm.
Then, left alone with Cousin Egbert, I was not long in discovering
that, strictly speaking, he had no establishment. Not only were there
no servants, but there were no drains, no water-taps, no ice-machine,
no scullery, no central heating, no electric wiring. His hut consisted
of but a single room, and this without a floor other than the packed
earth, while the appointments were such as in any civilized country
would have indicated the direst poverty. Two beds of the rudest
description stood in opposite corners, and one end of the room was
almost wholly occupied by a stone fireplace of primitive construction,
over which the owner now hovered in certain feats of cookery.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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