“Yes, Sir Hampton.”
The footman hurried out, and Sir Hampton took up yesterday’s Times, which arrived so late on the day of issue that it was not perused by the good knight till breakfast-hour the next morning, his seat, Tolcarne, being three hundred and twenty miles from town, and some distance off the West Cornwall Railway.
Sir Hampton—tell it not in the far West—had made his money by tea; had been made alderman by his fellow-citizens, and made a knight by his sovereign, upon the occasion of a visit to the City, when the turtle provided was extra good, and pleased the royal palate.
While waiting the coming of her ladyship, Sir Hampton, a staunch Conservative, skimmed the cream of a tremendously Liberal leader, grew redder in the face, punched the paper in its Liberal wind to double it up, and then went on with it, shaking his head fiercely, as his sister smoothed her mittens and watched him furtively, till the door opened with a snatch, and a little round, plump body, very badly dressed, and, so to speak, walking beneath a ribbon and lace structure, which she bore upon her head as if it were something to sell, bobbed into the room.
Description of people is absolutely necessary on the first introduction, so a few words must be said about Lady Frances Rea. She was what vulgar people would have termed “crumby;” but, literally, she was a plump little body of forty, who, born a baby, seemed to have remained unaltered save as to size. She was pink, and fair, and creamy, and soft, and had dimples in every place where a dimple was possible; her eyes were bright, teeth good, her hair a nice brown, and in short she seemed as if she had always lived on milk, and was brimming with the milk of human kindness still.
“Ten minutes past nine, Fanny,” said Sir Hampton, pompously, after a struggle with a watch that did not want to be consulted.
“Never mind, dear,” said her ladyship, going at him like a soft ball, and giving him a loud kiss. “Matty, where’s my keys?”
“In your basket, dear,” said Miss Matilda, pecking her sister-in-law softly on the forehead.
“So they are, dear,” said her ladyship, rattling open the tea-caddy, and shovelling the tea into the silver pot.
“Er-rum, er-rum!” coughed Sir Hampton, clearing his throat.