“These are handsome horses,” observed I.
“Yes,” replied he, “I am fond of good horses; and, as I only keep a pair, I have the best. There is a certain degree of pretension in four horses, I do not much like—it appears as if you wished to overtop your neighbours.”
I spent a few very pleasant days, and then quitted his hospitable roof. A severe cold, caught that winter, induced me to take the advice of the physicians, and proceed to the South of France, where I remained two years. On my return, I was informed that Willemott had speculated, and had been unlucky on the Stock Exchange; that he had left Richmond, and was now living at Clapham. The next day I met him near the Exchange.
“Reynolds, I am happy to see you. Thompson told me that you had come back. If not better engaged, come down to see me; I will drive you down at four o’clock, if that will suit.”
It suited me very well, and, at four o’clock, I met him according to appointment at a livery stables over the Iron Bridge. His vehicle was ordered out, it was a phaeton drawn by two long-tailed ponies—altogether a very neat concern. We set off at a rapid pace.
“They step out well, don’t they? We shall be down in plenty of time to put on a pair of shoes by five o’clock, which is our dinner-time. Late dinners don’t agree with me—they produce indigestion. Of course, you know that Louisa has a little boy.”
I did not; but congratulated him.
“Yes, and has now gone out to India with her husband. Mary is also engaged to be married—a very good match—a Mr Rivers, in the law. He has been called to the bar this year, and promises well. They will be a little pinched at first, but we must see what we can do for them.”
We stopped at a neat row of houses, I forget the name, and, as we drove up, the servant, the only man-servant, came out, and took the ponies round to the stable, while the maid received my luggage, and one or two paper-bags, containing a few extras for the occasion. I was met with the same warmth as usual by Mrs Willemott. The house was small, but very neat; the remnants of former grandeur appeared here and there, in one or two little articles, favourites of the lady. We sat down at five o’clock to a plain dinner, and were attended by the footman, who had rubbed down the ponies and pulled on his livery.
“A good plain cook is the best thing, after all,” observed Willemott. “Your fine cooks won’t condescend to roast and boil. Will you take some of this sirloin, the under-cut is excellent. My dear, give Mr Reynolds some Yorkshire pudding.”