"It's a compact," said the former.
CHAPTER VII
TEA-TABLE AND POLITICS
There were three parties assembled around the tea-table, bluff Captain Thomas Lanyan, a brother of Sir James, a sturdy old widower; Mistress Betty Lanyan—a spinster and a distant relative of the family, and Master Richard—a young man in his last year in Eton and the perfect counterpart of his father, only much younger.
Mistress Betty was tall and angular, like Sir James, yet with a good supply of feminine sweetness in her features. The sole drawback to her countenance was her nose, that was neither a thing of beauty nor grace. It was of the large hooked variety, so common to the family. Yet so strange are the freaks of Madam Nature, that the eagle nose of Sir James was universally commended as giving him the commanding and dignified appearance of a statesman; while one of the same variety on the countenance of Mistress Betty was considered exceedingly derogatory and shrewish. Notwithstanding this detractive feature, Mistress Betty was a good-hearted soul. She always had, at least in company, that mellow smile on her face that gave a vivid reality to the stanza,
"Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its fragrance on the desert air."
The Captain was moulded more like his mother's side of the house. Clear grey eyes lighted up a countenance that was rugged and weather-beaten, while the family nose was absent and in its place was the straight, plain variety characteristic of his mother's family. Over his forehead was a long, livid scar that ran from the centre of the forehead, obliquely, to the right ear, a cavalry slash of the battle of Waterloo. Mistress Betty always persisted in having this covered by the Captain's waving grey hair, but the Captain would just as persistently throw his hair up and to one side, revealing the full extent of his old wound. What Mistress Betty was ashamed of was the Captain's glory. Captain Tom lived in tolerable contentment on a government pension, and of all the family, none were upon such intimate terms with the squire as himself.
"Ah, Captain Tom, what cheer?" said the Squire as he cordially shook the hand of the veteran. "And Master Richard, you are quite a man and every inch like your father. And Mistress Betty, I hope I see you well," and the squire made a profound bow that would shame an old-time knight, at the same time grasping her small hand delicately with his own.