CHAPTER XVIII. LORD CASTLEREAGH'S DINNER-PARTY.
The day of Lord Castlereagh's dinner-party had arrived, and the guests, all save Mr. Heffernan, were assembled in the drawing-room. The party was small and select, and his Lordship had gone through the usual routine of introducings, when Hamilton asked if he still expected any one.
“Yes; Mr. Heffernan promised to make one of our twelve; he is generally punctuality itself, and I cannot understand what detains him.”
“He said he 'd call for me on his way,” said Lord Beerhaven, “and I waited some time for him; but as I would not risk spoiling your Lordship's entrées, I came away at last.”
This speech was made by one who felt no small uneasiness on his own part respecting the cookery, and took the occasion of suggesting his fears, as a hint to order dinner.
“Shall we vote him present, then?” said Lord Castle-reagh, who saw the look of dismay the further prospect of waiting threw over the party.
“By all means,” said Lord Beerhaven; “Heffernan never eats soup.”
“I don't think he cares much for fish, either,” said Hamilton.
“I think our friend Con is fond of walnuts,” said the Knight, dryly.
“Them 's the unwholesomest things he could eat,” muttered old Hickman, who, although seated in a corner of the room, and partly masked by his son and grandson, could not be altogether secluded from earshot.