“I know that you did n't see it,” said he, with emphasis, “but your sister did, and liked it well, besides; ay, and the young one joined in the fun. And, after all, I don't see that they got much by the victory, for Withering was not pleased at my little hit about the days when he used to be a Whig and spout liberal politics; and the other liked just as little my remark about the fellows in the Company's service, and how nobody knew who they were or where they came from. He was in the Madras army himself, but I pretended not to know it; but I found his name written on the leaf of an old book he gave me, and the regiment he was in: and did you see how he looked when I touched on it? But here he comes now.”
“Make your peace with him, M'Cormick, make your peace!” said Barrington, as he moved away, not sorry, as he went, to mark the easy familiarity with which Stapylton drew his arm within the other's, and walked along at his side.
“Wasn't that a wonderful dinner we had to-day, from a man that hasn't a cross in his pocket?” croaked out M'Cormick to Stapylton.
“Is it possible?”
“Sherry and Madeira after your soup, then Sauterne,—a thing I don't care for any more than the oyster patties it came with; champagne next, and in tumblers too! Do you ever see it better done at your mess? Or where did you ever taste a finer glass of claret?”
“It was all admirable.”
“There was only one thing forgotten,—not that it signifies to me.”
“And what might that be?”
“It was n't paid for! No, nor will it ever be!”
“You amaze me, Major. My impression was that our friend here was, without being rich, in very comfortable circumstances; able to live handsomely, while he carried on a somewhat costly suit.”