"Did not you drive here in it?"
"No," whispered he, "Deerhurst brought me with him, and I desired my coachman to follow, with my vis-à-vis."
We found it at the door, and were set down at Lord Deerhurst's house in Half Moon Street.
We were shown into the drawing-room, where, after waiting about five minutes, his lordship half-opened the door of his bedroom, which was the one adjoining, and showed us such a merry looking face, qu'il n'était plus réconnaissable.
"Glad to see you both," said his lordship, wiping his hands with a very dirty towel. "Will you come in? But you must excuse the disorder. You know it is a mere bachelor's room," continued he, lighting a long tallow-candle by a short piece, which was burning in a broken candlestick.
"Why don't you ride and tye regularly with your two muttons," said I, "when you want to be economical? and then no one would know they had not been allowed to burn on together with an equal flame like you and Sophia."
"Oh Lord!" said Deerhurst, laughing, "I can't cry any more at this moment, for I have just washed my face."
"But seriously," Colonel Berkeley observed, "I have followed you because, upon my soul, I do not understand you. I want to know whether my attentions to Sophia are really disagreeable; for I don't see how a man could command so many tears to flow at pleasure."
"Oh! there was a boy at Westminster could cry a great deal better than I can," said Deerhurst.
"I won't believe you," retorted Berkeley, laughing, "unless you'll sit down on that chair and favour me with another cry: and first ring for some proper candles, will you? How came those stinking butchers' candles in your room?"