John looked from one to the other of these worthies with astonished disapproval. Indeed, from the first, both gentlemen had impressed him unfavourably. Their voices were loud, their laughter excessive: Lord Tuftington interlarded his conversations with strange expletives, while Sir Harry helped himself perpetually from the beer-jug. He was surprised to observe on nearer view that the latter’s dress was at once tawdry and slovenly; his gold lace was tarnished, his ruffles soiled; as he held the jug aloft on one occasion, John actually detected a rent in his fine peach-coloured coat.
After a pause, broken only by the lamentations of the elder ladies, Lucy turned hesitatingly to her host—
“Do you not think, sir,” she said pathetically, “that it is cruel to leave the poor horses standing in the road all night?”
“Ma’am,” cried John, starting up, “with your leave I will at once go and see after them.”
“And bring my valise, good sir,” besought Lady Olivia—“the smallest valise in the boot.”
“Pray, Mr Cotley, try to bring all our property—all at least that is portable.”
“Certainly, ladies,” returned John, “I shall be happy to carry some of the baggage myself, and to direct your servant to bring the remainder hither.”
“I am obliged to you, sir,” replied the Duchess, with a somewhat embarrassed air, “but you must know that with the exception of the postboy we are unattended at present.”
“’Tis a pity, indeed, my dear,” put in Lady Olivia, “that we should have left all our servants behind.”
“But, ladies, remember,” put in Sir Harry, with half-tipsy gravity, “that we are travelling incog.”