“Capital ginger-beer that! eh?” said the ensign, as, winking at his companions, he proceeded to quiz the stranger.
“I have certainly drunk worse,” said the Knight, gravely,—“at an infantry mess.”
There was a pause before he uttered the last three words, which gave them a more direct application; a stare, half stupid, half impertinent, was, however, all they elicited, and the group moved on, while the Knight, disencumbering himself of his travelling gear, slowly followed them.
“Grim old gentlemen these, ain't they?” said the major, gazing at the long line of family portraits that covered the walls; “that fellow with the truncheon does not seem to like the look of us.”
“Here's a bishop, I take it, with the great wig.”
“That's a chancellor, man; don't you see the mace? But he's not a whit more civil-looking than the other; commend me to the shepherdess yonder, in blue satin. But come on, we 're losing time; I hear the flourish of a new dance. I say,” said he, in a whisper, “do you see who we've got behind us?” And they turned and saw the Knight as he mounted the stairs behind them.
“A friend of the family, sir?” asked the major, in a voice that might bear the equivocal meaning of either impertinence or mere inquiry.
The Knight seemed to prefer taking it in the latter acceptation, as he answered mildly, “I have that honor.”
“Ah! indeed; well, we 've the misfortune to be strangers in these parts; only arrived in the neighborhood last week, and were invited here through our colonel. Would you have any objection to present us?—Major Hopecot of the 5th, Captain Mills, Mr. Dallas, Mr. Fothergill, Mr. Watkins.”
“How the major is going it!” lisped the ensign, while his goggle eyes rolled fearfully, and the others seemed struggling to control their enjoyment of such drollery.