charmed to hear it, though I never met a fellow-brought up at a
desk that was so."

Skeff was by no means deficient in courage, and, taken with a due regard
to all the conventional usages of such cases, he would have "met
his man" as became a gentle-man; but it was such a new thing in his
experiences to travel along in a carriage arranging the terms of a duel
with the man who ought to have been his pleasant companion, and who
indeed, at the very moment, was smoking his cheroots, that he lost
himself in utter bewilderment and confusion.

"What does that small flask contain?" said M'Caskey, pointing to a
straw-covered bottle, whose neck protruded from the pocket of the
carriage.

"Cherry brandy," said Skeff, dryly, as he buttoned the pocket-flap over
it.

"It is years upon years since I tasted that truly British cordial."

Skeff made no reply.

"They never make it abroad, except in Switzerland, and there, too,
badly."

Still Skeff was silent.

"Have you got a sandwich with you?"

"There is something eatable in that basket,--I don't know what," said
Skeff, pointing to a little neatly corded hamper. "But I thought you had
just finished supper when I drove up."

"You 're a Londoner, I take it," said M'Caskey.

"Why so, sir? for what reason do you suppose so?"

"The man who reminds another of the small necessity there is to press
him to take something--be it meat or drink--must be a Cockney."

"I am neither a Cockney, nor accustomed to listen to impertinence."

"Hand me your flask and I 'll give you my opinion of it, and that will
be better than this digression."

The impudence seemed superhuman, and in this way overcame all power of
resistance; and Skeffy actually sat there looking on while M'Caskey cut
the cords of the little provision-basket, and arranged the contents on
the front seat of the carriage, assuring him, as he ate, that he "had
tasted worse."

For some time the Major continued to eat and drink, and was so
completely immersed in this occupation as to seem quite oblivious of
his companion. He then lighted his cigar and smoked on till they reached
Caserta, where the carriage halted to change horses.

"The fellow is asking for something for the ostler," said M'Caskey,
nudging Skeffy with his elbow as he spoke.

"My servant, sir, looks to these details," said Skefify, haughtily.

"Take these, old boy," said M'Caskey, pitching out to him the basket
with the fragments of his late meal, and th