She tries to pass it off as humorous"--my
aunt pulled a grimace--"it isn't humorous! See! We're on the up-grade
now, fair and square. We're going to be big. We aren't going to be
laughed at as Poovenoos, see!"
"Nobody laughed at you," said my aunt. "Old Bladder!"
"Nobody isn't going to laugh at me," said my uncle, glancing at his
contours and suddenly sitting up.
My aunt raised her eyebrows slightly, swung her foot, and said nothing.
"We aren't keeping pace with our own progress, George. We got to. We're
bumping against new people, and they set up to be gentlefolks--etiquette
dinners and all the rest of it. They give themselves airs and expect
us to be fish-out-of-water. We aren't going to be. They think we've no
Style. Well, we give them Style for our advertisements, and we're going
to give 'em Style all through.... You needn't be born to it to dance
well on the wires of the Bond Street tradesmen. See?"
I handed him the cigar-box.
"Runcorn hadn't cigars like these," he said, truncating one lovingly.
"We beat him at cigars.
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