“There, there,” burst in Haire,—“they are laughing, and laughing heartily too. It does me good to hear the Chief's laugh.”
Lendrick looked gratefully at the old man whose devotion was so unvarying. “Here comes Cheetor,—what has he to say?”
“My Lord will dine below-stairs to-day, gentlemen,” said the butler; “he hopes you have no engagements which will prevent your meeting him at dinner.”
“If we had, we 'd soon throw them over,” burst out Haire. “This is the pleasantest news I have heard this half-year.”
“Fossbrooke has done it. I knew he would,” said Beattie; “he's just the man to suit your father, Tom. While the Chief can talk of events, Fossbrooke knows people, and they are sure to make capital company for each other.”
“There's another laugh! Oh, if one only could hear him now,” said Haire; “he must be in prime heart this morning. I wonder if Sir Brook will remember the good things he is saying.”
“I 'm not quite so sure about this notion of dining below-stairs,” said Beattie, cautiously; “he may be over-taxing his strength.”
“Let him alone, Beattie; leave him to himself,” said Haire. “No man ever knew how to make his will his ally as he does. He told me so himself.”
“And in these words?” said Beattie, slyly.
“Yes, in those very words.”