“What, Earl Verner’s brother?” Mr. Richard inquired, with more than ordinary interest.
“The same—the paternal seat is near Barton Hall, you know.”
“Rather,” said Mr. Richard. “He’ll be deuced rich when the earl hops the twig; he is considerably older than Lionel and very shaky, they say; he often rides over to the Berne district. The governor says he likes to talk farming to the bailiff at the Hall Farm.”
“Gad bless me!” exclaimed Mr. Gibbs. “Are there any gals about?”
“There is one, old fellow, and a remarkably fine girl, too; but her mother’s a she-wolf, and her father!—why, Shuffy, he’d double you up with one hand and throw you into the road, if you put your nose into his place; he’d smell you out in no time;” and Mr. Richard Tallant laughed aloud at his lively picture of Mr. Gibbs’s imaginary discomfiture.
Mr. Shuffleton Gibbs bit his lip before he grinned and said “haw, haw” this time; and it was a little while before he had time to say, “Haw, what an infernally powerful savage he must be.”
Mr. Richard Tallant was, and had been for some time, of great pecuniary value to Mr. Shuffleton Gibbs, who not only sponged upon the iron prince, but fleeced him at cards, and assisted at all his extravagances. Had it been otherwise, he would have resented the tone and manner of Mr. Tallant’s description of his perfect helplessness in the hands of Luke Somerton.
“You may laugh, Shuff, but by Jove it’s true; so take timely warning, and if ever you should go down to Barton Hall mind how you look at Amy Somerton.”
Mr. Tallant, senior, it would seem, had no liking for Mr. Shuffleton Gibbs, and he had privately intimated to his son that he would rather that gentleman were not amongst the friends whom he introduced to Barton Hall.
“If ever I go to Barton Hall!” said Mr. Gibbs. “I begin to think I shall never have the opportunity; my distinguished and most hospitable friend, Richard Tallant, Esq., has not yet honoured me with an invitation, even to a shooting-party, on the estate which calls him heir.”