[CHAPTER V]
By a little before eight on the following evening, the party I have before mentioned all sat down to dinner at Lord Lowther's in Pall Mall. Lord Yarmouth was at the bottom of the table, opposite to Lord Lowther; Amy, on Lowther's right hand, Fanny at his left; Street, the editor, was her neighbour; and I sat next to Croker. Poor Julia had not been invited. Lord Hertford, who at his own table is always particularly entertaining, was a little out of sorts here, which generally happened to him when he dined with Lowther, who gave a very bad dinner.
Lord Hertford very candidly owns that he dislikes a bad dinner; and I had heard him own it so often to Lord Lowther, that I was surprised his lordship invited him at all, unless he had thought proper to have provided a good one.
The claret, Lowther said, he wanted Lord Hertford's opinion about, having just provided himself with a large quantity of it, in consequence of its quality having been strongly recommended to him.
Our first glass had scarcely gone round, when Lord Hertford said, in his usual, loud, odd voice, addressing Lowther, "You asked me for my opinion, and I will give it you; your claret is not worth a d—n."
Poor Lowther looked a little annoyed.
Croker fought on his side. "I must differ in opinion with you, Lord Hertford," said he, in his starched pragmatical manner. "I think the claret excellent."