"You will remember us all most affectionately to Donna Dominga and to the bewitching Paulina—you will see them of course," said some one from the foot of the table.
"The doctor must prepare some of the rarest specimens of those remarkable cacti with which he subdued the heart of the plump widow," said Slingsby, taking up the chorus of banter, "and have them ready by to-morrow; we start to-morrow, I presume, colonel."
"As early as you please," said Morton.
"We shall have some glorious fun in Seville—eh, Ramble? You'll envy us, gentlemen."
"If the captain-general does not garotte you," snarled the doctor; "or treat you as Don Ramon Cabrera, the Conde de Morella, treated the husband of Donna Dominga."
"But for that gentle sigh, doctor, I would have considered you quite a bear," said Slingsby, "but pass the wine, M'Leechy."
"If you find Seville dull," retorted the doctor, "you had better play the same little prank you played at Kilkenny when you were in the Sixth."
"What did he do when in the Sixth?" inquired a dozen voices at once.
"What did he not do you should ask," continued the doctor, while Jack smiled faintly and filled up his glass. "Once when we marched into Kilkenny we found there had been a quarrel between the Rapparees of the district and the first battalion of Scots Royals. It was in the time of high Repeal enthusiasm, and nothing was thought of but an Irish Republic, so the people looked darkly at the redcoats. Now Slingsby had never been in Ireland before, and as he received over the barrack-guard from one of the Royals, with bayonets fixed and drum beating, he asked how the inhabitants liked the troops.
"'Ill enough,' answered the Royal, 'since we shot some of them in a tithe business near Roscrea: they have been as cold as charity, and the devil a dinner or ball have we had since last muster day, and you be here till you are mouldy without seeing such a thing as a waltz or white kids—ices and fowl, trifle and champagne.'