t was. Sir
Brian came in on the arm of his valet presently, wearing that look
of extra neatness which invalids have, who have just been shaved and
combed, and made ready by their attendants to receive company. He was
voluble: though there was a perceptible change in his voice: he talked
chiefly of matters which had occurred forty years ago, and especially of
Clive's own father, when he was a boy, in a manner which interested the
young man and Ethel. "He threw me down in a chaise--sad chap--always
reading Orme's History of India--wanted marry Frenchwoman. He wondered
Mrs. Newcome didn't leave Tom anything--'pon my word, quite s'prise."
The events of to-day, the House of Commons, the City, had little
interest for him. All the children went up and shook him by the hand,
with awe in their looks, and he patted their yellow heads vacantly and
kindly. He asked Clive (several times) where he had been? and said
he himself had had a slight 'tack--vay slight--was getting well ev'y
day--strong as a horse--go back to Parliament d'rectly. And then he
became a little peevish with Parker, his man, about his broth. The man
retired, and came back presently, with profound bows and gravity, to
tell Sir Brian dinner was ready, and he went away quite briskly at this
news, giving a couple of fingers to Clive before he disappeared into the
upper apartments. Good-natured Lady Anne was as easy about this as
about the other events of this world. In later days, with what a strange
feeling we remember that last sight we have of the old friend; that
nod of farewell, and shake of the hand, that last look of the face and
figure as the door closes on him, or the coach drives away! So the roast
mutton was ready, and all the children dined very heartily.

The infantile meal had not been long concluded, when servants announced
"the Marquis of Farintosh;" and that nobleman made his appearance to
pay his respects to Miss Newcome and Lady Anne. He brought the very last
news of the very last party in London, where "Really, upon my honour,
now, it was quite a stupid party, because Miss Newcome wasn't there. It
was now, really."

Miss Newcome remarked, "If he said so upon his honour, of course she was
satisfied."

"As you weren't there," the young nobleman continued, "the Miss
Rackstraws came out quite strong; really they did now, upon my honour.
It was quite a quiet thing. Lady Merriborough hadn't even got a new gown
on. Lady Anne, you shirk London society