"Consummate asses, we call them; but weaker brethren, as you say, does as well."
The Rector was choosing and sniffing out a cigar to his heart's content.
"Milk for babes, you know," said the Rector, making his preparations. "Strong meats—"
"And strong cigars; but you'll find these as mild as you please. Here's a match."
The Rector sat down, with one foot on the fender, and puffed away steadily, looking into the fire; and his brother, at the opposite angle of the fender, employed himself similarly.
"Fine old soldier, General Lennox," said the cleric, at last. "What stay does he make with you?"
"As long as he pleases. Why?" said Sir Jekyl.
"Only he said something to-night in the drawing-room about having to go up to town to attend a Board of the East India Directors," answered the parson.
"Oh, did he?"
"And I think he said the day after to-morrow. I thought he told you, perhaps."