"I've boxed his son; I'll box him," said Richard, shouting for more wine.
"What, boy! Is it old Blaize has been putting you up!"
"Never mind, uncle!" The boy nodded mysteriously.
'Look there!' Adrian read on Ripton's face, he says 'never mind,' and lets it out!
"Did we beat to-day, uncle?"
"Yes, boy; and we'd beat them any day they bowl fair. I'd beat them on one leg. There's only Watkins and Featherdene among them worth a farthing."
"We beat!" cries Richard. "Then we'll have some more wine, and drink their healths."
The bell was rung; wine ordered. Presently comes in heavy Benson, to say supplies are cut off. One bottle, and no more. The Captain whistled: Adrian shrugged.
The bottle, however, was procured by Adrian subsequently. He liked studying intoxicated urchins.
One subject was at Richard's heart, about which he was reserved in the midst of his riot. Too proud to inquire how his father had taken his absence, he burned to hear whether he was in disgrace. He led to it repeatedly, and it was constantly evaded by Algernon and Adrian. At last, when the boy declared a desire to wish his father good-night, Adrian had to tell him that he was to go straight to bed from the supper- table. Young Richard's face fell at that, and his gaiety forsook him. He marched to his room without another word.