“Well, now, neighbor, shall we follow the example of the ladies and go to my dressing-room to refresh our toilets? As for myself, I have been poking into the vaults and dungeons of the Tower, and I feel as if I were covered with the dust of ages!”
“Yes, and I am just as unbearable with railway smoke and cinders.”
“Come, then,” said the General, rising and conducting his visitor to his own apartment.
Half an hour afterwards, all the friends assembled in the parlor, where the table was laid for dinner.
At half-past five it was served. It consisted of a boiled turbot with shrimp sauce; green-turtle soup; roasted young ducks and green peas; pigeon-pasty; cauliflowers, asparagus, sea-kail and, in short, the choice vegetables of the month; and, for dessert, delicate whipped creams, jellies, and ices, and candied fruits, and nuts; and port, and sherry, and champagne, and moselle wines.
The “fellow in the neckcloth and napkin,” as the colonel described the waiter, seeing how well these visitors were received by General Lyon and family, tried to make up for his mistakes of the morning by the most obsequious attentions, all of which the good-natured Seymour received in excellent part.
Old Seymour was blessed with a keen appetite and a strong digestion. He had always enjoyed his homely farm dinners of boiled beef, or bacon and greens, washed down with native whiskey-toddy, and now he much more keenly enjoyed the rare delicacies set before him.
After coffee was served they arose from the table, and the service was removed.
“I suppose, my dear, there is no such thing as a treat in the form of your sweet music to be hoped for this evening?” sighed the colonel, as he took his seat in a resting chair.
“Why not, Colonel Seymour?” smiled Drusilla.