“Well, I suppose you must take a little of your neighbor's—if it don't suit you to go naked. This here noble Lord writes 'like a book;' but when he says, 'I 'm not a-goin' to stump it,' there 's no more to be said. You don't want to see the horse take his gallops that you know is to be scratched on the day of the race,—that's a mere piece of idle curiosity, ain't it?”
“Quite true, Grog.”
“Well, it's clear he won't He says he won't, and that's enough.—'We have come abroad for no other reason than economy, and are only looking for a place inexpensive enough for our reduced means.' What's his income?”
“Better than twelve thousand a year.”
“Has he debts?”
“Well, I suppose he may; everybody has.”
“Ay,” said Grog, dryly, and read on.—“'The Continent, however, is not the cheap place it once was,—rent, servants, markets, all are dearer,—and I 'm quite satisfied you find Ireland much less expensive than any other part of Europe,'—which means, 'Stay there,'—eh?”
“No, I don't take it that way,” said Beecher, reddening.
“But I do, and I 'll maintain it,” reiterated Grog. “He's a knowing one, that same noble Viscount; he's not the flat you always thought he was. He can square his own book, he can.—As to any prospect of places, I tell you, frankly, there is none. These competitive humbugs they call examinations do certainly stop a number of importunate people, but the vigilance of Parliament exercises a most overbearing tyranny on the ministers; and then the press! Now, we might tide over the House, Annesley, but the press would surely ruin all. If you were gazetted to-day Consul to the least-known South American republic,—commissioner for the sale of estates in the planet Saturn,—those fellows would have a leader on you to-morrow, showing what you did fifteen years ago at Ascot,—all your outlawries, all your actions in bankruptcy. They 'd begin saying, 'Is this the notorious Hon. Annesley Beecher? or are we mistaken in supposing that the gentleman here referred to is the same lately mentioned in our columns as the friend and associate of the still more famous Grog Davis?'”
“He's cool, he is, the noble Lord,” said Davis, laying down the letter, while Beecher laughed till his eyes ran over with tears. “Now, I 'd trouble his Lordship to tell me,” continued Grog, “which had the worst of that same acquaintance, and which was more profitable to the other. If the famous Grog were to split upon the notorious Annes-ley, who 'd come last out of the bag?”