"A good health to great G-George our K-King," hiccoughed one, and fell flat on the lawn.
Guy Barton turned with a frown of disgust to his new friend.
"Come," said he shortly. "'Tis time for gentlemen to be returning home. They'll be singing the Marseillaise next."
And Michael followed readily enough. He had seen his father on the steps talking and jesting with Marcel Trouet.
Even a drunkard should be more discriminating in his company.
CHAPTER IX
"WHEN TWO'S COMPANY AND THREE NONE"
"Lack-a-day, if the old master could see it," groaned Bates to himself, as he ran hurrying across the hall, carrying the great silver loving-cup, which had been so carefully hoarded away for twenty years and more, towards the supper-room.
"But times are changed since Sir Stephen came home. Ah! it's Mr. Michael should ha' been master here instead o' him. What with junketings an' drunkenness, gamblin' an' boxin', with balls an' such like now to top all—no wonder the timber in Barham woods wants a-fellin', an' the tenants grumblin' at skinflint ways. Love-a-daisy! say I—'Old ways is best—old ways is best.'"