“And the gardener,”—persisted Spriggs.
“Hush for goodness sake!” said Mr. Richard, very seriously, “for if that 'ere affair gets vind, ve shall be blown, and—”
—In came the dinner. The display was admirable and very abundant, and the keen air, added to the unusual exercise of the morning, had given the young gentlemen a most voracious appetite.
The birds were particularly sweet, but afforded little more than a mouthful to each.
The 'wedgetables,' however, with a due proportion of fine old Cheshire, and bread at discretion, filled up the gaps. It was only marvellous where two such slender striplings could find room to stow away such an alarming quantity.
How calm and pleasant was the 'dozy feel' that followed upon mastication, as they opened their chests (and, if there ever was a necessity for such an action, it was upon this occasion,) and lolling back in their chairs, sipped the 'genuine malt and hops,' and picked their teeth!
The talkative Spriggs became taciturn. His gallantry, however, did prompt him, upon the production of a 'fresh pot,' to say,
“Vell, Grubbs, my boy, here's the gals!”
“The gals!” languidly echoed Mr. Richard, tossing off his tumbler, with a most appropriate smack.