"But, nephew—a Gad's name, what am I to do with so many—d'ye take me for a regiment? 'Tis 'gainst all reason for a man to wear thirty-one suits of——"
"Sir, I allude to button-holes!"
"Thank heaven!" murmured the Major.
"Moreover sir, there is, late come in, a new cravat—a poorish thing with nought to commend it save simplicity. It seems you throw it round your neck, get your fellow to twist it behind till you're well-nigh choked to death, bring the ends over your shoulders, loop 'em through a brooch and 'tis done. I propose to show you after supper."
"Hum!" said the Major dubiously. "Meantime a bottle won't be amiss after your long ride, I judge? Come in, Tom, come in and tell me of your adventures."
"Thank'ee, sir, though t' be sure I drapped in at the "George" on my way hither—left my two rogues there with my baggage. Which reminds me I have a letter for you." Diving into his coat-pocket he brought forth the missive in question and tendered it to the Major who took it, broke the seal and read.
"To Major d'Arcy these:
We, the undersigned, do solicit the honour of your company this night, to sup with Bacchus, the Heavenly Nine, and
Yours to command:
B. TRIPP.
ALVASTON.
A. MARCHDALE.
H. WEST, CAPT.
ALTON.
J. DENHOLM."