"Percy, I took the liberty of bringing Tom Moore with me."
"Your Highness does not doubt that I am glad to welcome any friend of yours," glibly replied Sir Percival.
Then as the Prince, seeing Sheridan, ever a favorite of his, turned away, the baronet said to Moore, a sneer disfiguring his handsome face:
"Believe me, Mr. Moore, my house is honored."
"I believe you, Sir Percival," responded the poet, promptly, "so that need not worry you."
"Nothing ever worries me, sir."
"Not even conscience, Sir Percival?"
"No, Mr. Moore," replied the baronet, as Wales and Sheridan drew nearer.
"Ah, I see, conscience, like a powdered wig, is no longer in style."
"Tut, tut, Tom," said Sheridan reprovingly. "I still cling to the old fashion."