"Surely you remember the gout—the frightful attack you had last time after Burgundy."
"Gout? I suppose you mean Arthritic Rheumatism? But perhaps you are right, and Dr Garrod was wrong—let us call it gout. Fill up the glass, Boffins. Bridgewater, try some Burgundy, and see if it affects your gout. Boffins, that cat's in the room, I hear it purring. I hear it, I tell you, sir! where is the beast?"
The beast, as if in answer, poked its head from under the table-cloth—it was in Miss Lambert's lap.
Altogether the dinner was not a success.
"Your father has known my brother some time?" said Miss Hancock, when the ladies found themselves alone in the drawing-room after dinner.
"Oh yes, some time now," said Fanny. "They met over some law business. Father had a dispute with Mr Bevan of Highshot Towers, the place adjoining ours, you know, down in Buckinghamshire, and Mr Hancock was very kind—he arbitrated."
"Indeed? that is funny, for he is Mr Bevan's solicitor."
"Is that so? I'm sure I don't know, I never trouble myself about law business or money matters. I leave all that to father."
They talked on various matters, and before Miss Lambert had been packed into a specially chartered four-wheeler and driven home with Bridgewater on the box beside the driver as chaperone, Miss Hancock had come to form ideas about Miss Lambert such as she had never formed about any other young lady. Ideas the tenor of which you will perceive later on.