* * * * *
Later, at the reception of a Cabinet Minister, Lord Arranmore came across Hennibul talking with half-a-dozen other men. He detached himself at once.
"This is odd," he remarked, with a whimsical smile. "What the dickens are you doing in this respectable household, Arranmore? You look like a lost sheep."
Lord Arranmore shrugged his shoulders.
"I've decided to go in for something," he said; "politics or society or something of that sort. What do you recommend?"
"Supper!" Mr. Hennibul answered, promptly.
"Come on then," Lord Arranmore assented. "One of those little tables in the far room, eh?"
"The pate here is delicious," Mr. Hennibul said; "but for Heaven's sake leave the champagne alone." "There's some decent hock. You'll excuse my pointing out these little things to you, but, of course, you don't know the runs yet. I'll give you a safe tip while I'm about it. The Opposition food is beastly, but the wine is all right—Pommery and Heidsieck, most of it, and the right years. The Government food now is good, but the wine, especially the champagne, is positively unholy."
"One should eat then with the Government, and drink with the
Opposition," Lord Arranmore remarked.
"Or, better still," Mr. Hennibul said, "do both with the Speaker. By the bye, did you know that they are going to make me a judge?"