“Ah, Brown, I'm very glad to see you here,” said Mr. Wurley, standing up and holding out his hand. “Have any breakfast?”
“Thank you, no, I have breakfasted,” said Tom, somewhat astonished at the intimacy of the greeting; but it was his cue to do the friendly thing,—so he took the proffered hand, which felt very limp, and sat down by the table, looking pleasant.
“Ridden from home this morning?” said Wurley, picking over daintily some of the curry to which he had helped himself.
“No, I was at my uncle's, at Englebourn, last night. It is very little out of the way; so I thought I would just call on my road home.”
“Quite right. I'm very glad you came without ceremony. People about here are so d-d full of ceremony. It don't suit me, all that humbug. But I wish you'd just pick a bit.”
“Thank you. Then I will eat some fruit,” said Tom, helping himself to some of the freshly picked grapes; “how very fine these are!”
“Yes, I'm open to back my houses against the field for twenty miles round. This curry isn't fit for a pig—Take it out, and tell the cook so.” The butler solemnly obeyed, while his master went on with one of the frequent oaths with which he garnished his conversation. “You're right, they can't spoil the fruit. They're a set of skulking devils, are servants. They think of nothing but stuffing themselves, and how they can cheat you most, and do the least work.” Saying which, he helped himself to some fruit; and the two ate their grapes for a short time in silence. But even fruit seemed to pall quickly on him, and he pushed away his plate. The butler came back with a silver tray, with soda water, and a small decanter of brandy, and long glasses on it.
“Won't you have something after your ride?” said the host to Tom; “some soda water with a dash of bingo clears one's head in the morning.”
“No, thank you,” said Tom, smiling, “it's bad for training.”
“Ah, you Oxford men are all for training,” said his host, drinking greedily of the foaming mixture which the butler handed to him. “A glass of bitter ale is what you take, eh? I know. Get some ale for Mr. Brown.”