Sir Andrew was left to finish his criticism alone, the company moving on to a portrait assigned to Vandyck, as Diedrich von Aevenghem, Burgomaster of Antwerp.
“A fine head!” exclaimed Mrs. White, authoritatively; “don't you think so, Mr. Howie?”
“A very choice specimen of the great master, for which, doubtless, you gave a large sum.”
“Four hundred, if I remember aright,” said Cashel.
“I think he maught hae a clean face for that money,” broke in Sir Andrew.
“What do you mean, sir?” said Miss Kennyfeck, insidiously, and delighted at the misery Lady Janet endured from his remarks.
“Don't ye mind the smut he has on ane cheek?”
“It's the shadow of his nose, Sir Andrew,” broke in Lady Janet, with a sharpness of rebuke there was no misunderstanding.
“Eh, my leddy, so it may, but ye need na bite mine off, for a' that!” And so saying, the discomfited veteran fell back in high dudgeon.
The party now broke into the twos and threes invariable on such occasions, and While Mrs. Kennyfeck and her elder daughter paid their most devoted attentions to Lady Janet, Mrs. White and the author paired off, leaving Olivia Kennyfeck to the guidance of Cashel.