“For four; I shall eat double,” added the colonel.
“Six!” shouted George, seizing the dinner-bell on the mantel-piece.
“Stop,” said the man, betraying a little excitement; “don’t ring that bell.”
“Why not?” demanded George; “we want to see the landlord; and, by Jove,” brandishing the bell aloft, “see him we will!”
“He stands before you, gentlemen; and if you will have a little patience I will see what can be done.” So saying, he put his pipe on the chimney-piece, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and went out, muttering, as he did so. “The world was not made in a day.”
In three-quarters of an hour we sat down to a funereal repast, the bare recollection of which makes me ill, but which was enlivened by the following conversation:
“How many inhabitants are in your tract?” I asked of the man who waited on us.
“Do you mean inhabitants?”
“Certainly, I mean inhabitants.”
“Well, that’s not an easy one.”