"A copious prescription, sir!" sighed the Major wearily.
"Brisk?" snorted Lord Cleeve, "brisk, is it? Refuse me but he's as brisk and joyous as a gallows! Here he sits, hunched up in that old service coat and glooms and glowers all day, and when night draws on, damns his bed, curses himself, and wishes his oldest friend to the devil and that's me sir—his friend I mean."
"Stay, never that, George," smiled the Major, shaking protesting head.
"But ya' curst gloomy Jack, none the less."
"This won't do," smiled Dr. Ponderby, "won't do at all. Gloom must we dissipate——"
"Dissipate!" exclaimed the Colonel, "dissipate—aye man, but he won't drink and the Oporto's the right stuff you'll allow——"
"He must have company——"
"Well and aren't I company?"
"The very best, my lord——"
"Not to mention Viscount Tom and——"