Guy, who came into dinner a few minutes late, received his share of his uncle's wrath.
"You will be good enough to remember, sir, that my dinner hour is six. It is doubtless disagreeable to you to conform to my habits; but it cannot be for long now, and I think I have a right to expect that you will pay me that degree of respect."
Happily Guy, who was tolerably easy of temper, did not encourage his uncle's quarrelsome tendency.
"I am sorry to be late, uncle," he said. "I assure you I like my dinner at six; but that fellow Ames detained me. Is there any soup coming for me?"
"I believe so; but if you have any consideration for your throat, you will have nothing to do with it," said the old man, grimly. "Cook evidently considers pepper the chief ingredient in making soup."
"It is rather highly seasoned, certainly," said Guy, as he tasted the soup the servant placed before him. "How did you find things at Woodham? Much as usual, I suppose?"
An impatient sound escaped old Stephen's lips, but he said nothing, and Guy did not pursue the inquiry, though he was full of wonder as to the cause of his uncle's ill-temper. The few carefully-chosen remarks on which he ventured being ungraciously received, Guy finished his dinner in silence. As the dessert was placed on the table, the old man's manner brightened somewhat. He sent for a bottle of special port from the cellar, and having filled his own glass, pushed the black, cob-webbed bottle towards Guy.
"Fill up; you'll find it worth drinking," he said. "It's almost as good as the '54 will prove, I trust, which I am keeping for your wedding."
Guy laughed and shrugged his shoulders.
"Time enough to think of that, sir," he said, lightly.