"Ah! we had the best of it," said Sir Richard, "had we not, Sir Harry; knocking about the billiard balls with the fair occupants of the Castle?"
"What? Why you don't mean to say you played billiards all day, Sir Richard?"
"Oh, dear no, my Lord; we spent most of the afternoon in admiring your fine gallery of family pictures; there's a long line of De Veres."
"Did you observe any peculiarity in the pictures?"
"I can't say I did, my Lord," answered Sir Richard.
"I did though," said Sir Harry; "and that was—excuse me, Mr. Lennox, but you are taking white wine with the brown vein of the venison"—(Mr. L. rectified his error)—"that was—hock, if you please,"—(to the footman)—"yes,—what was I saying? Some jelly—I thank you,—yes, yes,—that your Lordship had placed all the old personages on the right side, and all the young on the left side of the fireplaces,—a curious crotchet—some beer,—I thank you."
The Colonel was a great bon vivant.
"It is no arrangement," said the Earl; "but since the time of Earl Hugh, or the Roundhead peer as we call him, none of the family ever became old."
"A most curious fancy indeed! Here, Andrew, some more hock; this venison is beyond all praise, my Lord, cooked to the nicety of a minute,—a singular fancy to prefer dying so early,—ha! ha! ha!"
"It is no fancy, Sir Harry; you have evidently not heard of the Weird of the Wentworths."