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Wilson, Harry Leon, 1867-1939

"The Boss of Little Arcady"

Upon more than one occasion I was made to
notice this. One of them was at an evening entertainment at the Eubanks
home that autumn, to which it was my privilege to escort her. "A large
and brilliant company was present," to quote from a competent authority,
and the refreshments were "recherche," to quote again, this being, I
believe, the first of our social functions at which Japanese paper
napkins were handed around. Eustace Eubanks entertained "one and all" by
exhibiting and describing lantern views of important scenes in the Holy
Land; Marcella sang "Comin' Thro' the Rye" with such iron restraint that
the most fastidious among us could have found no cause for offence, and
Eustace sang an innocent song of war and bloodshed and death. All went
well until Eustace, being pressed for more, ventured a drinking song.
Whether this had been censored by his household I have never learned.
Perhaps there had been demurs--there were almost certain to have been;
and possibly Eustace had held out for the thing because of the rare
opportunity it afforded for the exercise of his lowest tones. Perhaps it
had been deemed wise to indulge him in this, lest in rebellion he break
all bonds of propriety and revert to the "Bedouin Love Song.


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