“Yes, pa, we met him this morning; and he’s the same—”
“Er-rum, I know!” exclaimed Sir Hampton, upsetting a carafe in his excitement, and making Miss Matilda start back to save her silk. “I ought to have bought Penreife—it’s one of those persons we saw—I know; I met him this morning—trespass—an insulting—ugh! ugh! ugh!”
“Oh, pa!” cried Finetta, “you shouldn’t get in a passion with your mouth full; and so much pepper as there is in that pie.”
For Sir Hampton had begun to cough furiously, his face growing deeper in tint, and his eyes protruding, so alarming Lady Rea that she bustled round the table and began to hammer his back, while Miss Matilda offered a glass of water.
“Ugh! ugh! ugh! Sit down—sit down!” gasped Sir Hampton. “I—er-rum—I forbid all fixture communication with that—that fellow. If he calls here, I’ll have the door shut in his face. Insulted me grossly this morning, on my own grounds, and a dirty little jackanapes with him talked to me in such a way as I was never spoken to before.”
“Oh, Tiny, it’s the horrid little man,” whispered Fin.
“Why, my dear Hampy, whatever is it all about?” said Lady Rea. “There, do drink some water, and get cool.”
Sir Hampton glanced at his wife and sister, and poured himself out half a tumbler of sherry, which he drained, and then began to cough once more.
“Eat a bit of bread, dear,” said Lady Rea. “Quick, you won’t mind mine—I haven’t touched it.”
Saying which she held a piece out to him on a fork.