"Inja, sir. Cavalry regiment, the Eighteenth South Sarum Lancers."
"Strange for a man owning so fine a property to go into the army."
"Well, sir, don't you see, the life at the Manor must have been a very dull one for a young gentleman. No entertainments. No staying company. Mrs. Wornock, she don't care for nothink but music—and, after all, sir, music ain't everythink to a young man. He 'unted, and he 'unted, and he 'unted, from the time he 'ad legs to cross a pony. Wherever there was 'ounds to be follered, he follered 'em. But hunting ain't everythink in life, and it don't last long," added the waiter, philosophically.
"Mrs. Wornock, as dowager, should have withdrawn to her Dower-house, and left the young man free to be as jovial as he liked at the Manor."
"Ah, that may come to pass when he marries, sir, but not before. Mr. Wornock is a devoted son. He'd be the last to turn his mother out-of-doors. And he's almost as keen on music as his mother, I've heard say; plays the fiddle just like a professional—and the organ."
"Well," sighed Carew, having heard all he wanted to hear, "I bear no grudge against Mr. Geoffrey Wornock because he happens to resemble me; but I wish with all my heart that he could have made it convenient to live in any other neighbourhood than that in which my lot is cast. That will do, waiter; I don't want any more wine. You may clear the table, and bring me some tea at nine o'clock."
The waiter cleared the table, in a leisurely way, made up the fire, also in a leisurely way, and contrived to spend a quarter of an hour upon work that might have been done in five minutes; but Allan questioned him no further. He flung himself back in an easy-chair, rested his slippered feet upon the fender, and meditated with closed eyes.
Yes, it was a bore, a decided bore, to have a double in the neighbourhood. A double richer, more important, and altogether better placed than himself; a double in a Lancer regiment—there is at once chic and attractiveness in a cavalry soldier—a double who owned just the fine old manorial estate, and fine old manorial mansion which he, Allan, would have liked to possess.
Beechhurst might be a snug little property; the house might be perfection, as Lord Hambury had averred; but when a house of that calibre is said to be perfect, the adjective rarely means anything more than a good kitchen, and a convenient butler's pantry, roomy cellars, and a well-planned staircase; whereas, to praise a fine old manor house implies that it contains a panelled hall, and a spacious ballroom, a library with a groined roof, and a music gallery in the dining-room. After hearing of Wornock's old house, Allan felt that Beechhurst was distinctly middle-class, and that his sailor uncle must have been a poor creature to have found pride and pleasure in such a cockney paradise.
He jumped up out of his easy-chair, shook himself, and laughed aloud at his own pettiness.