While thus ruminating, a thundering knock at the door almost knocked him off his legs. “There ye go again,” said he, and he went angrily to the door. This time it was Hunsdon, who was in a desperate hurry to see his master.
“Where is Sir Charles Pomander, my honest fellow?” said he.
“In the garden, my Jack-a-dandy!” said Burdock, furiously.
(“Honest fellow,” among servants, implies some moral inferiority.)
In the garden went Hunsdon. His master—all whose senses were playing sentinel—saw him, and left the company to meet him.
“She is in the house, sir.”
“Good! Go—vanish!”
Sir Charles looked into the banquet-room; the haunch was being placed on the table. He returned with the information. He burned to bring husband and wife together; he counted each second lost that postponed this (to him) thrilling joy. Oh, how happy he was!—happier than the serpent when he saw Eve's white teeth really strike into the apple!
“Shall we pay respect to this haunch, Mr. Quin?” said Vane, gayly.
“If you please, sir,” said Quin, gravely. Colander ran down a by-path with an immense bouquet, which he arranged for Mrs. Woffington in a vase at Mr. Vane's left hand. He then threw open the windows, which were on the French plan, and shut within a foot of the lawn.