"Od's my life, my lord Colonel!" exclaimed Sir Benjamin, wringing his hand, "I know not what propitious zephyr hath wafted George Cleeve into these Arcadian solitudes, but hem! being hither I do protest you shall this night sit the honoured guest of good-Fellowship, Bacchus and the Muses, shedding upon our poetical revels the—the effulgence of your hem! your glories, gracing our company with, I say with the——"
"Hold, Ben!" sighed my Lord Alvaston, making graceful play with his slender legs, "hold hard, Ben, an' get your wind while I 'splain. Sir, what poor Ben's been tryin' t' tell you 'n' can't tell you is—that we shall rejoice if you'll sup with us. And so say we all——"
"Strike me dumb if we don't!" added the Marquis.
"Haw!" muttered the Captain. "B'gad! So we do!"
"Gentlemen," said the Colonel, "I protest ya' do me too much honour, 'tis curst polite in ya' and I take it kindly, rot me, kindly!"
"Od's body, sir," cried Sir Benjamin, "the honour is completely ours, I vow, your exploits in Flanders and Brabant sir, your notable achievements on the stricken fields of Mars, the very name of Colonel Lord George Cleeve coruscates with hem! with glory, shines like—like—a——"
"Star," suggested the Captain. Hereupon Lord Cleeve bowed, the company bowed, shot their ruffles, fluttered their handkerchiefs and snuffed with one another.
"Hem!" exclaimed Sir Benjamin with an air of ponderous waggery, "as I was saying when my Lord Cleeve dropped upon us so happily, 'tis then agreed that Alton and I shall see the Major home at peep o' day!" Here Sir Benjamin grew so waggish that he very nearly laid plump finger to nose but checked himself in time and coughed instead. "I vow 'twill be an honour, for, foxed or no and despite his hem! his rusticity, Major d'Arcy is a gentleman, a——"
"Ha!" exclaimed the Colonel suddenly. "Do ya' mean Jack d'Arcy o' the Third, sir—d'Arcy of Churchill's regiment?" Sir Benjamin bowed and smiled:
"You know him, my lord? A simple, quiet, kindly soul——"