Fresh from Virginie's improving hand, in velveteen clothes, white waistcoat, and light blue tie, with his brown hair brushed back from his bright face, and his eyes sparkling with excitement, he looked like a being of another sphere, among the rusty old gentlemen congregated in the room.
Many of them turned round to look at the pretty boy, and more than one held out a hand of greeting.
But, to Sir Everard's annoyance, Humphrey, whose manners were usually perfect, took not the slightest notice of any of these overtures.
He stood at the door as if spell-bound, gazing around him with an expression of intense surprise, wonder, and disappointment.
"Humphrey," said Sir Everard, "why don't you come and say 'How do you do?' to these gentlemen?"
"Father," exclaimed the boy, in a clear treble voice, that was heard all over the room, "where are the wild men?"
The ghastly truth flashed across Sir Everard's mind, as the boy asked the question. The recollection of the children's conversation with their uncle came back to him, and he was at his wit's end.
"Wild men, Humphrey?" he said, with a sickly smile, "what are you dreaming about? There are no wild men here."
"You know what I mean, father," the child answered, in the same clear voice, making his way straight across the room to Sir Everard; "the wild men of the woods, that you and Uncle Charlie were talking about last Saturday, and who you said you were going to have to dinner. There were two long words, and the one I mean—means wild men. It was a very long word, the a—abo——"
"Constituents?" gasped the baronet.