"This is the first time," said Whymper, "that I have ever known your father late; and to you belongs the honor of having caused him to transgress his own immutable rule."
While he was yet speaking a hunting-horn was blown in the hall beneath, and the whole company turned en masse, like a field of poppies before a sudden wind, to the door where Carew was standing.
CHAPTER VI.
THE FEAST OF LAPITHAE
The host himself led the way down stairs; while the rear of the party was brought up by Mr. Whymper, to whom Yorke attached himself.
When they reached the dining-room, and before they took their seats at the ample table, the chaplain, with sonorous voice, gave a view holloa! which was the Crompton grace.
"It is very distressing to me to have to act in this way," whispered he to his young friend, whose countenance betrayed considerable astonishment; but it is the custom of the house; and, after all, there is no great harm in it. De minimis non curat lex, you know."
"That does not hold good with respect to the law of affiliation, parson," observed Mr. Byam Ryll, who sat on the other side of him, "if, at least, I have not forgotten my Burns."
"I always understood that Burns had very loose views upon such matters," returned the chaplain, demurely.
"My dear parson, your remark is like that excellent condiment which I wish I could see at this otherwise well-provided table—caviare to the multitude. Why is it not furnished? You have only to say the word." Here he addressed himself to Yorke: "This worthy divine who sits at the bottom of the table, young gentleman, and who has neglected his duty in not having introduced us, is all-powerful here; and we all endeavor to make friends of him; nor is that circumstance, it is whispered, the only respect in which he resembles the mammon of unrighteousness."