A minute or two later Wyndham was shaking hands with the old earl, who was gazing into his face with apparently affectionate interest.
"This is very pleasant," said the earl. "Why, bless my soul, I haven't caught a glimpse of you for—let me see—three or four years is it? What has been amiss? Genius starving in a garret?—eh?"
"Pretty good guess," said Wyndham.
"You look fat enough, and sleek enough," laughed the earl. "On the face of things, I should have taken it that you've done very much better than I have. Now, if you had had to put up with my scoundrel of a cook— —"
"There was only one sauce on one occasion, father."
"So you insist, so you insist. Well, you seem pretty straight on your feet again, my boy; so all's well that ends well."
They sat down to table.
"Making lots of nice little pictures?—eh?" recommenced the earl genially.
"Oh, the one I am making sketches for here is rather tremendous—the size of a wall!"
"The size of a wall!" echoed the earl. "My gracious!"