“The mention of a dinner struck the fellow with such amazement that without venturing another word, or even a glance at my card, he mounted the stairs to apprise the Duke of my presence.
“‘This way, sir; his Grace will see you,’ said he, in a very modified tone, as he returned in a few minutes after.
“I threw on him a look of scowling contempt at the alter-ation his manner had undergone, and followed him upstairs. After passing through several splendid apartments, he opened one side of a folding-door, and calling out ‘Mr. Baggs,’ shut it behind me, leaving me in the presence of a very distinguished-looking personage, seated at breakfast beside the fire.
“‘I believe you are the person that has the Blenheim spaniels,’ said his Grace, scarce turning his head towards me as he spoke.
“‘No, my Lord, no,—never had a dog in my life; but are you—are you the Duke of Devonshire?’ cried I, in a very faltering voice.
“‘I believe so, sir,’ said he, standing up and gazing at me with a look of bewildered astonishment I can never forget.
“‘Dear me,’ said I, ‘how your Grace is altered! You were as large again last April, when we travelled down to Nottingham. Them light French wines, they are ruining your constitution; I knew they would.’
“The Duke made no answer, but rang the bell violently for some seconds.
“‘Bless my heart,’ said I, ‘it surely can’t be that I ‘m mistaken. It’s not possible it wasn’t your Grace.’
“‘Who is this man?’ said the Duke, as the servant appeared in answer to the bell. ‘Who let him upstairs?’