obwebs had gathered round it
ere Farintosh was born? The dining-room was so tiny that not more than
five people could sit at the little round table: that is, not more than
Lady Kew and her granddaughter, Miss Crochet, the late vicar's daughter,
at Kewbury, one of the Miss Toadins, and Captain Walleye, or Tommy
Henchman, Farintosh's kinsman, and admirer, who were of no consequence,
or old Fred Tiddler, whose wife was an invalid, and who was always ready
at a moment's notice? Crackthorpe once went to one of these dinners,
but that young soldier being a frank and high-spirited youth, abused the
entertainment and declined more of them. "I tell you what I was wanted
for," the Captain told his mess and Clive at the Regent's Park barracks
afterwards, "I was expected to go as Farintosh's Groom of the Stole,
don't you know, to stand, or if I could sit, in the back seat of the
box, whilst his Royal Highness made talk with the Beauty; to go out
and fetch the carriage, and walk downstairs with that d---- crooked old
dowager, that looks as if she usually rode on a broomstick, by Jove,
or else with that bony old painted sheep-faced companion, who's raddled
like an old bell-wether. I think, Newcome, you seem rather hit by
the Belle Cousine--so was I last season; so were ever so many of the
fellows. By Jove, sir! there's nothing I know more comfortable or
inspiritin' than a younger son's position, when a marquis cuts in
with fifteen thousand a year! We fancy we've been making running, and
suddenly we find ourselves nowhere. Miss Mary, or Miss Lucy, or Miss
Ethel, saving your presence, will no more look at us, than my dog will
look at a bit of bread, when I offer her this cutlet. Will you--old
woman! no, you old slut, that you won't!" (to Mag, an Isle of Skye
terrier, who, in fact, prefers the cutlet, having snuffed disdainfully
at the bread)--"that you won't, no more than any of your sex. Why, do
you suppose, if Jack's eldest brother had been dead--Barebones Belsize
they used to call him (I don't believe he was a bad fellow, though he
was fond of psalm-singing)--do you suppose that Lady Clara would have
looked at that cock-tail Barney Newcome? Beg your pardon, if he's your
cousin--but a more odious little snob I never saw."

"I give you up Barnes," said Clive, laughing; "anybody may shy at him
and I shan't interfere."

"I understand, but at nobody else of the family. Well, what I mean is,
that that old woman is enough to spoil any you