“Well, I think so,” replied the self-satisfied old dandy; “I think so,” repeated he, replenishing his nose with a good pinch of snuff; “Comes from Steinberger and Leoville, of King Street, Saint Jeames’s—very old ‘quaintance of mine—great house in the days of George the Fourth of festive memory. And, by the way, that reminds me,” continued he, after a long-drawn respiration, “that I have forgotten a toast that I feel (pause) we ought to have drunk, and—”
“Let’s have it now then,” interrupted the Major, presenting his glass for a second helping.
“If you please,” replied “Wotherspoon, thus cut short in his oration, proceeding to replenish the glasses, but with more moderate quantities than before.
“Well, now what’s your toast?” demanded the Major, anxious to be off.
“The toast I was about to propose—or rather, the toast I forgot to propose,” proceeded the old twaddler, slowly and deliberately, with divers intermediate sniffs and snuffs, “was a toast that I feel ‘sured will come ‘ome to the ‘arts and symphonies of us all, being no less a—a—(pause) toast than the toast of the illustrious (pause), exalted—I may say, independent—I mean Prince—Royal Highness in fact—who (wheeze) is about to enter into the holy state of matrimony with our own beloved and exalted Princess (Hear, hear, hear). I therefore beg to (pause) propose that we drink the ‘ealth of His Royal (pause) ‘Ighness Prince (pause) Frederick (snuff) William (wheeze) Nicholas (sniff) Charles!” with which correct enunciation the old boy brightened up and drank off his glass with the air of a man who has made a clean breast of it.
“Drink both their ‘ealths!” exclaimed the Major, holding up his glass, and condensing the toast into “The ‘ealths of their Royal Highnesses!” it was accepted by the company with great applause.
Just as the last of the glasses was drained, and the lip-smacking guests were preparing to restore them to the sideboard, a slight rustle was heard at the door, which opening gently, a smart black velvet bonnet trimmed with cerise-coloured velvet and leaves, and broad cerise-coloured ribbons, piloted Mrs. Wotherspoon’s pretty face past the post, who announced that Mrs. Broadfurrow and she were ready to go whenever they were.
“Let’s be going, then,” exclaimed Major Yammerton, hurrying to the sideboard and setting down his glass. “How shall it be, then? How shall it be?” appealing to the company. “Give them a view or put her away quietly?—give them a view or put her away quietly?”
“Oh, put her away quietly,” responded Mr. Broadfurrow, who had seen many hares lost by noise and hurry at starting.
“With her ‘ead towards Martinfield?” asked the Major.