At length, to my great relief, I heard a door open on the staircase, and a manly step approaching, which I feared, even while I listened, was too ponderous for that of my friend. The young ladies made a rustling kind of movement, as if to bespeak my attention. A deep voice in the hall was heard to say, “Dinner directly!” and the portly form of mine host walked into the drawing-room, with outstretched hand, and that welcome on his lips with which an Englishman always receives a guest into his castle, whether that metaphorical building be really a ducal residence, a squire’s hall, or a day-labourer’s cottage.
Old Mr. Plumtree was a great improvement on his son, as well as his picture. Although of the plainest and most unsophisticated of squires, he was obviously a high-bred gentleman; and his old-fashioned attire—for he had not discarded the blue coat, yellow waistcoat, and white stockings of his younger days—was perfectly in keeping with his fresh old face, round and rosy as a winter-apple: his fine bald head and stately figure, deep of chest, stout of limb, and somewhat protuberant of stomach.
“I am glad James found ye at home, Mr. Softly,” said he, “and doubly glad he persuaded ye to come over and eat your mutton with us here. My daughters, Mr. Softly—Rebecca and Jane.” Both ladies again got up, and we bowed and curtsied once more to one another; whilst I still remained as much in ignorance as ever as to which was Rebecca and which was Jane. “You got here before six,” continued my host, evidently bent on making me feel myself at home. “Our roads are not the best travelling in the dark, but I conclude you don’t make much account of roads. Broke your collar-bone at a fence? and a large one too, I’ll be bound. I was a sportsman myself, Mr. Softly. I recollect in the year——”
“Dinner is on the table, sir!” announced the respectable-looking servant, interrupting his master’s reminiscences at this juncture; and with a nod to me to take Miss Plumtree, which I acknowledged by diving at the nearest lady, whom I afterwards found out to be the younger sister, we filed off in great state for the dining-room, the Jovial joining the procession in the hall, and whispering in my ear, as he passed my chair, “Don’t be afraid of the Madeira, it’s been twice round the Cape; and if he talks about breeding hounds, mind you say ‘Yes’ to the governor!”
With the carte du pays thus spread before me, I unfolded my napkin, and went at an excellent clear soup with the utmost confidence.
CHAPTER X
THE OLD SQUIRE
The dinner passed off far more pleasantly than I should have imagined possible. Drawn out by their brother, and gradually losing their awe of myself as a stranger, both Rebecca and Jane found something to say, and voices wherewith to say it. Well-brought-up girls in our English society are all shy (though not half so reserved as foreign young ladies of the same age), or at all events, are taught that it is right to appear so; but we must never forget that it is as natural for a woman to talk as for a duck to swim. Let them alone a little: don’t hurry them at first. If your host gives you good champagne, as in these anti-tariff days he is very likely to do, press them to have a glass. Turn the conversation upon some individual, the more notorious the better, of their own sex; but be careful to state that you cannot see what there is to admire in her yourself, and then begin resignedly at your cutlet. Take my word for it, the talking will be done for you, till gloves and handkerchiefs have to be recovered, and the ladies spread their pinions and sail away to the drawing-room.
The Jovial was also a host in himself. The presence of his sisters toned down his slang a trifle, while it enhanced his liveliness. He gave a vivid and laughable description of our day’s hunting, performed in the gig, but rather hesitated and showed some little confusion when describing our first view of the hounds.
“Who was with them?” asked his father; the old man’s eye kindling, as he filled a glass of ruby port, and offered me my choice between that and a tempting-looking claret decanter. “Who was going well? The Earl, I’ll pound it! Castle-Cropper will be with ’em, let it be ever so good for pace; and Will Hawke, I suppose; and who else?”