tted that he had been induced to dine at Pawkins's. It might be
a very fine thing to be asked to dinner with an earl; and John Eames
had perhaps received at his office some little accession of dignity
from the circumstance, of which he had been not unpleasantly aware;
but, as he sat at the table, on which there were four or five apples
and a plate of dried nuts, looking at the earl, as he endeavoured to
keep his eyes open, and at the colonel, to whom it seemed absolutely
a matter of indifference whether his companions were asleep or awake,
he confessed to himself that the price he was paying was almost too
dear. Mrs Roper's tea-table was not pleasant to him, but even that
would have been preferable to the black dinginess of Pawkins's
mahogany, with the company of two tired old men, with whom he seemed
to have no mutual subject of conversation. Once or twice he tried a
word with the colonel, for the colonel sat with his eyes open looking
at the fire. But he was answered with monosyllables, and it was
evident to him that the colonel did not wish to talk. To sit still,
with his hands closed over each other on his lap, was work enough for
Colonel Dale during his after-dinner hours.

But the earl knew what was going on. During that terrible conflict
between him and his slumber, in which the drowsy god fairly
vanquished him for some twenty minutes, his conscience was always
accusing him of treating his guests badly. He was very angry with
himself, and tried to arouse himself and talk. But his brother-in-law
would not help him in his efforts; and even Eames was not bright in
rendering him assistance. Then for twenty minutes he slept soundly,
and at the end of that he woke himself with one of his own snorts.
"By George!" he said, jumping up and standing on the rug, "we'll have
some coffee"; and after that he did not sleep any more.

"Dale," said he, "won't you take some more wine?"

"Nothing more," said the colonel, still looking at the fire, and
shaking his head very slowly.

"Come, Johnny, fill your glass." He had already got into the way of
calling his young friend Johnny, having found that Mrs Eames
generally spoke of her son by that name.

"I have been filling my glass all the time," said Eames, taking the
decanter again in his hand as he spoke.

"I'm glad you've found something to amuse you, for it has seemed to
me that you and Dale haven't had much to say to each other. I've been
listening all the time."

"You'v