“So it 's poor Barrington again! I 'm sincerely sorry for it! And now I 'll not ask you to delay. By the way, take my boat. Elwes,” said he to the servant, “tell the men to get the boat ready at once for Dr. Dill, and come and say when it is so.”
The doctor's gratitude was profuse, though probably a dim vista of the “tip” that might be expected from him detracted from the fulness of the enjoyment.
“Find out if I could be of any use, Dill,” whispered the Admiral, as the doctor arose. “Your own tact will show if there be anything I could do. You understand me; I have the deepest regard for old Barrington, and his sister too.”
Dill promised to give his most delicate attention to the point, and departed.
While this little incident was occurring, Stapylton, who sat at an angle of the fireplace, was amusing two or three listeners by an account of his intended dinner at the “Home,” and the haughty refusal of Miss Barrington to receive him.
“You must tell Sir Charles the story!” cried out Mr. Bushe. “He'll soon recognize the old Major from your imitation of him.”
“Hang the old villain! he shot a dog-fox the other morning, and he knows well how scarce they are getting in the country,” said another.
“I 'll never forgive myself for letting him have a lease of that place,” said a third; “he's a disgrace to the neighborhood.”
“You're not talking of Barrington, surely,” called out Sir Charles.
“Of course not. I was speaking of M'Cormick. Harrington is another stamp of man, and here's his good health!”