"Some people could," said Errington, who was listening to the boy's remarks with an amused smile, "but I agree with you about the roast beef of old England."
"Or the wholesome parritch of Scotland," observed Eustace satirically. "As a North Briton you surely forget that, Master."
"No, I don't," retorted Macjean. "I got too much of that when I was young."
"Being so aged now."
"Isn't that shabby?" said Otterburn good-humouredly, turning to Lady Errington. "He's always making fun of my age--as if youth were a crime."
"It's a very charming crime at all events," replied Alizon pleasantly; "don't you mind Mr. Gartney, he is a poet, and poets are always praising--and envying--youth."
That's true enough, said Eustace with a sigh, "all the poets from Mimnurmus downward have ever lamented the passing of youth. What a pity we can't always remain young."
"And why not? I don't count age by years, but by experience," said Lady Errington quietly. "One may be old at twenty and young at fifty."
Eustace, knowing what her experience had been, looked curiously at her fair placid face as she said this, and she must have guessed his thoughts, for a flush burned in her cheeks under his searching gaze.
"That's what I say," cried Guy, referring to his wife's remark. "If a fellow's got health, wealth and a good temper, the world's a very jolly sort of place."