"What did I tell you, George?" said Sheridan, delightedly, nudging the Beau with his elbow.
"Do be careful, Sherry," replied Brummell, warningly. "Tom, I congratulate you."
"So do I," said Sheridan. "You have a cheerful den, Tommy. Here is a home for you, Brummell."
"Does Mr. Brummell need a home?" asked Moore, waving his guests to the most comfortable of the chairs.
"Faith, the Beau is better at breaking them than making them," remarked the elder man, with a chuckle.
"Zooks!" drawled Brummell, "that reminds me of an execrable jest of which the Regent was guilty a fortnight ago. 'Why am I like a farmer?' he inquired of Percy Lovelace, who politely confessed that he could detect no resemblance. 'Because,' said his Highness, 'I keep a rake within reach,' and pointed with his monocle at Richard Brinsley."
"That is a mighty bad pun, I 'm thinking," said Moore to Bessie.
"Tom," she said warningly, "are you not already sufficiently out of favor?"
"Pooh, Bessie, these lads are my friends. Tell me the news, you old gossip. Am I still in disgrace?"
Sheridan shook his gray wig dolefully.