Mr. Bragg provided May with a cup of tea, and then took one of the little cakes himself. "They eat uncommonly short," said he with strong, though quiet, approbation. "All the eatables seem good."
"Not a doubt of it. Miss Patty is a wonderful housekeeper."
"Now, do you suppose she made those little cakes herself?"
"I cannot tell; but I am sure she could if she chose. She makes excellent cakes."
"Ah! I remember her giving me some very good ideas about a beefsteak pudding. I tried to make my cook do one according to her receipt; but it didn't answer," said Mr. Bragg with a sigh. Presently he remarked, as he slowly stirred his tea round and round, "This is a bad job about Mr. George Cheffington."
"Yes; I am very sorry for Lord Castlecombe."
"Ah, your uncle—or great-uncle is he?—I'm not much of a hand at remembering the ins and outs of families—is hard hit. But he bears up wonderfully, to outward appearance."
"Have you seen him, Mr. Bragg?"
"Yes; saw him o' Monday about some business. He's a keen hand at a bargain, is Lord Castlecombe. I don't know that I ever met with a keener."
"Poor old man!"