CHAPTER XII. THE GREAT KENNYFECK DINNER.
There were lords and ladies,—I saw myself,—
A duke with his Garter, a knight with his Gaelph.
“Orders”—as bright as the eye could see,
The “Golden Fleece,” and the “Saint Esprit;”
Black Eagles, and Lions, and even a Lamb,
Such an odd-looking thing—from the great “Nizam;”
Shamrocks and Thistles there were in a heap,
And the Legion of Honor from “Louis Philippe,”
So I asked myself—Does it not seem queer,
What can bring this goodly company here?
Mrs. Thorpe's Fête at Twickenham
Although Mrs. Kennyfeck's company were invited for seven o'clock, it was already something more than half-past ere the first guest made his appearance, and he found himself alone in the drawing-room; Mrs. Kennyfeck, who was a very shrewd observer of everything in high life, having remembered that it twice occurred to herself and Mr. K. to have arrived the first at the Secretary's “Lodge,” in the Park, and that the noble hostess did not descend till at least some two or three others had joined them.
The “first man” to a dinner is the next most miserable thing to the “last man” at leaving it. The cold air of solitude, the awkwardness of seeming too eager to be punctual, the certainty, almost inevitable, that the next person who arrives is perfectly odious to you, and that you will have to sustain a tête-à-tête with the man of all others you dislike,—all these are the agreeables of the first man; but he who now had to sustain them was, happily, indifferent to their tortures. He was an old, very deaf gentleman, who had figured at the dinner-tables of the capital for half a century, on no one plea that any one could discover, save that he was a “Right Honorable.” The privilege of sitting at the Council had conferred the far pleasanter one of assisting at dinners; and his political career, if not very ambitious, had been, what few men can say, unruffled.
He seated himself, then, in a very well-cushioned chair, and with that easy smile of benevolent meaning which certain deaf people assume as a counterpoise for the want of colloquial gifts, prepared to be, or at least to look, a very agreeable old gentleman to the next arrival. A full quarter of an hour passed over, without anything to break the decorous stillness of the house; when suddenly the door was thrown wide, and the butler announced Sir Harvey Upton and Captain Jennings. These were two hussar officers, who entered with that admirable accompaniment of clinking sabres, sabretaches, and spurs, so essential to a cavalry appearance.
“Early, by Jove!” cried one, approaching the mirror over the chimney-piece, and arranging his moustaches, perfectly unmindful of the presence of the Right Honorable who sat near it.
“They are growing worse and worse in this house, I think,” cried the other. “The last time I dined here, we sat down at a quarter to nine.”
“It's all Linton's fault,” drawled out the first speaker; “he told a story about Long Wellesley asking some one for 'ten.' and apologizing for an early dinner, as he had to speak in the House afterwards. Who is here? Neat steppers, those horses!”
“It is Kilgoff and his new wife,—do you know her?”