"Only, if it's time you're going to ask for—it's no go, my boy—hard-fisted old rasper, you know the saying,—(Bible, I think), figs, b'gad, and thistles, bread from stones, but no mercy from Jasper Gaunt."
"I don't seek his mercy," said Barnabas.
"Why, then, my dear Beverley—ha! there's Jenk come up to say the curricle's at the door."
Sure enough, at the moment, the Viscount's gentleman presented himself to announce the fact, albeit mournfully and with a sigh. He was about to bow himself out again when the Viscount stayed him with an upraised finger.
"Jenkins," said he, "my very good Jenk!"
"Yes, m'lud?" said Jenkins.
"Is the person with the—ah—bristles—still downstairs?"
"He is, m'lud," said Jenkins, with another sigh.
"Then tell him to possess his soul in patience, Jenk,—for I fear he will remain there a long, long time."