WHICH IS A VERY BRIEF CHAPTER
"I pr'ythee spare me, gentle boy
Press me no more for that slight toy
That foolish trifle of a heart
I swear it will not do its part
Though thou dost thine----"
The Viscount checked his song and inserting the upper half of his
person through the open lattice, hailed the Major cheerily.
"What, uncle, nunky, nunk--still at it? 'Tis high time you went to
change your dress."
"O? And why, Tom?"
"I look for our company here in twenty minutes or so."
"What company, may I ask?"
"Lady Belinda and Our Admirable Betty."
"Good God!" ejaculated the Major starting up in sudden agitation.
"Coming here--you never mean it?"
"I do indeed, sir!"
"But Lord! Why should they come?"
"As I gather, sir, 'tis because you invited 'em----"
"I? Never in my life!"
"Why, 'tis true sir, I was your mouthpiece--your ambassador, as it
were."
"And she--er--they are coming here! Both!"
"Both, sir."
"Lord, Tom, 'tis a something desperate situation, what am I to do
with----"
"Leave 'em to me sir! They shan't daunt you!"
"Ha! To you, Tom?"
"And dear old Ben----"
"O?"
"And Alton----"
"Indeed!"
"And Marchdale----"
"Any more, nephew?"
"And Alvaston----"
"Ah?"
"And Dalroyd and Denholm----"
"Did I invite 'em all, Tom?"
"Every one, sir!"
"I wonder what made me?"
"Loneliness, sir!"
"D'ye think so, Tom?"
"Aye, you've always been a lonely man, I mind."
"Perhaps I have--except for the Sergeant."
"You are still, sir."
"Belike I am--though I have Sergeant Zeb."
"But we'll change all that in a month--aye, less! You shall grow two
or three hundred years younger and enjoy at last the youth you've never
known."
"Faith, you'd give me much, Tom!"
The Viscount took out his snuff-box, tapped it, opened it, and forgot
his affectations.
"Sir," said he, "there was, on a time, a little, wretched boy, who,
hating and fearing his father, grieving in his sweet mother's griefs
until she died, found thereafter a friend, very tender and strong, in a
big, red-coated uncle----"
"By adoption, nephew."
"Aye sir, but I found him more truly satisfying to my youthful needs
than any uncle by blood, Lord love me! At whose all too infrequent
visits my boyish griefs and fears fled away--O Gad, sir, in those days
I made of you a something betwixt Ajax defying the lightning and
a--wet-nurse, and plague take it, sir, d'ye wonder if I----" Here the
Viscount took a pinch of snuff and sneezed violently. "Rat me!" he
gasped, "'tis the hatefullest stuff!" Followed a volley of sneezing
and thereafter a feeble voice--"The which reminds me sir we must drink
tea----"
"But I abominate tea, Tom."
"So do I, sir, so do I--curst stuff! You know the song:
'Let Mahometan fools
Live by heathenish rules
And be damned over tea-cups and coffee--'
But the women dote on it, dear creatures! 'Tis to the sex what water
is to the pig (poor, fat, ignorant brute!) ale to the yeoman (lusty
fellow) Nantzy to your nobby-nosed parson (roguish old boy) and wine to
your man of true taste. So, let there be tea, sir."
"By all means, Tom!"
"And sir--if I may venture a suggestion--?"
"Take courage, nephew, and try!"
"Why then, wear your blue and silver, nunky, 'tis the least obnaxious
and by the way, have you such a thing as a lackey or so about the place
to get in one's way and to be tumbled over as is the polite custom,
sir?"
"Hum!" said the Major thoughtfully, "I fancy the Sergeant has drafted
'em all into his gardening squad--ask Mrs. Agatha, she'll know."