Just as Sir Charles had finished his soup, and with it his amusing little story about the Baronetcy which though it had been paid for by the son and heir (who was solvent) came out after all in the Birthday List as a Knighthood,—just as he had finished his soup I say, he gave a loud cry and put both hands to his head just behind the ears.
“Crickey how it hurts, William!” he remarked to the butler.
“Yes, Sir Charles,” said the butler in the tone of a hierarch at his devotions.
“It’s gone now,” said the Baronet, with a sigh of relief, “but it does hurt when it comes! What’s the fish?” and he continued his meal.
He drank a great gulp of wine and was better.... “It’s dry,” he said doubtfully, “it’s too dry ... but there are advantages to that. You know why they make wine dry, William?”
“Yes, Sir Charles.”
“Oh! you do, do you? You’re getting too smart. You couldn’t tell me, I’ll bet brazils!”
“Why,” said Repton with a merry wink, “it’s to save your mouth next morning!” Then up went his hands to his head again and he groaned.
“Is your head hurting you again, darling?” said Lady Repton when she saw the gesture repeated.