“Oh, no, do stay to dine with me!” said the Duke. “I must explain to you that I have guests staying at Cheyney—rather odd guests perhaps you may think!”
“Yes; I do think it!” said Lord Lionel. “I have already been to Cheyney, Sale! I am well aware that it no longer any concern of mine if you choose to fill your house with a parcel of vulgar tradesmen, and to give an overgrown schoolboy carte blanche to shoot every bird you have on the place, but I should be glad to know where you acquired your taste for low company!”
“The thing is,” replied the Duke confidentially, “that I haven’t a taste for low company, sir. I owed Mamble some degree of extraordinary civility, for I fear I did aid and abet his son to escape from him.”
“I do not know what you are talking about!” complained his lordship. “And if it is your notion of extraordinary civility to invite a man to stay in your house when you are not there to entertain him, I can only suppose that I have failed, in all these years, to teach you common courtesy! I am ashamed of you, Gilly!”
“But I couldn’t endure him, sir! It is very bad, but what was I to do, when he would toadeat me so, and there was no getting away from him? He means only to stay there for a day or two because I promised Tom he should have some shooting. Should you object very much to entertaining him for me?”
“I should!” barked Lord Lionel. “You will stop talking flummery to me, and come to Cheyney!”
The Duke poured out some sherry into the glass Nettlebed had just brought into the room, and handed it to his uncle. “No, I cannot spare the time to go to Cheyney now,” he said. “I am removing to the Christopher, however. Did you bring my baggage with you from London, dear sir?”
“Yes, I did, and it is awaiting you at Cheyney. Now, Gilly—”
“Then it must be sent to the Christopher tomorrow,” said the Duke calmly. “It is very tiresome! I am so sadly in need of a change of raiment!”
“Gilly!” said his lordship awfully,