I always came for the cigar
after lunch, sometimes for lunch itself; sometimes I dined there instead
of down-town; and now and then when it happened that an errand or
assignment took me that way in the afternoon, I would run in and "visit"
awhile with Hamilton Swift, Junior, and his circle of friends.
There were days, of course, when his attacks were upon him, and only
Beasley and the doctor and old Bob saw him; I do not know what the boy's
mental condition was at such times; but when he was better, and could be
wheeled about the house and again receive callers, he displayed an
almost dismaying activity of mind--it was active enough, certainly, to
keep far ahead of my own. And he was masterful: still, Beasley and
Dowden and I were never directly chidden for insubordination, though
made to wince painfully by the look of troubled surprise that met us
when we were not quick enough to catch his meaning.
The order of the day with him always began with the "HOO-ray" and
"BR-R-RA-vo" of greeting; after which we were to inquire, "Who's with us
to-day?" Whereupon he would make known the character in which he elected
to be received for the occasion. If he announced himself as "Mister
Swift," everything was to be very grown-up and decorous indeed.
Formalities and distances were observed; and Mr. Corley Linbridge (an
elderly personage of great dignity and distinction as a
mountain-climber) was much oftener included in the conversation than
Bill Hammersley.
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