Uncle Percival cleared his throat.
"I—er—took the liberty," he said—and he glanced deprecatingly at Teddie—"I took the liberty—I hope an old uncle may be excused—of bringing some wine with me. My servant is still below, if you like him to bring up some sherry for the soup."
"Uncle Percival, you are a brick!" Hugh exclaimed, whilst Teddie gave his august relative an approving nod.
Thomas answered the bell, with decanter and glasses. A well-trained servant was he; for nothing could exceed his grave and deferential respect as his eyes lighted upon his master, seated upon the left hand—for Hugh was the guest of the evening—of the two flushed and eager young hosts upon the sofa. Yet the scene must of a surety have put a severe strain upon the risible muscles of any human being, necessitating a strong curb upon his sense of humour. Burgundy was handed round with the joint, and presently a suggestive "pop" from the region of the sideboard brought Mr. Desborough's eyes to meet Teddie's guiltily.
"Uncle, you are a trump," declared Teddie, slapping his uncle upon the shoulder.
Gerald rose and, leaning over Teddie, solemnly and in silence gripped his uncle's hand.
"I thought it might help with the evening's joviality," murmured the recipient of these attentions. "My dear fellows, what an excellent dinner you have provided—my compliments to your cook."
Which was tactful of Uncle Desborough.
Presently Paul Charteris rose and asked whether he had permission to propose a toast to the guest of the evening. Hugh modestly cast down his eyes as the company responded to the call with enthusiasm; Teddie meekly petitioning Providence that his shadow might never grow less.
Hugh rose to return thanks. He made a short speech, to the effect that, though happy in the capacity of Charteris's private secretary, he could never cease to regret that he had broken up the happy trefoil. He was half sorry that his brothers had not asked his whilom boss to this festive gathering, but that, perhaps after all, they had done rightly: Mr. Hooper might not have cared to come. He and Hugh had never had the luck to hit it off together as his brother Edward and his superior, Mr. Hamilton, had always done. Mr. Hooper was one of those men who did not appreciate the earnest endeavours and well-spent energy of the best years—or rather of a best year—at all events nine or ten months of a fellow's life. He had never liked or encouraged his, Hugh's, taste for drawing. He concluded by expressing his pleasure at finding himself in such thoroughly genial and sympathetic company, and he heartily returned his brother Edward's wish concerning his shadow—might all their shadows expand, if there must be any change in them. He begged to propose the health of their uncle, Percival Desborough.