'If I call, Fotheringhame, won't you accompany me?'
'Thanks; no. Old fellow, you forget.'
'What?'
'That Miss Erroll's acceptance for the ball came from the general's house.'
'A pleasant place it will be to visit,' said Dick Freeport, striking into the conversation from the opposite side of the table. 'I have had Falconer's confidential report on the subject; he states that the general's cellar is excellent, the sherry pale and dry, the old port full-bodied, the Chateau Lagrange unequalled, and Moët's Imperial ditto! His cook is a regular French chef, with a salary that exceeds the pay of Sir Piers himself, no doubt; and then there is his ward——'
'Halt, Dick! how your tongue runs on!' said Cecil, with some annoyance. 'His ward is not to be lightly spoken of at any mess-table—ours especially.'
'I saw the general's carriage to-day in George Street,' cried a cheeky sub-lieutenant from the lower end of the table. 'I knew it by the coat-of-arms; and, by Jove, there were two stunning girls in it!'
'Miss Montgomerie and her friend Miss Erroll, no doubt,' said Fotheringhame. 'One dark—a brunette, and the other brilliantly fair?'
'Exactly; I took stock of them both. Dick will be bringing his engagement-ring with the blue stone into action now.'
As this was a regimental joke it caused a little laugh, amid which Acharn, the sporting man of the corps, came in hastily in his mess-jacket and vest, looking rather grim and cross.