“Bay, my Lord.”
“Ah! the right colour, Bays, for a poet; and I am a poet: that is, I used to rhyme when I was in love. Is the lumber ready, John?”
“Right, my Lord.”
“Ah! then tell Her Honourable Ladyship I wait her presence in the water—. No! no! in the—the—library, I mean. Yes, the library, John—mind—the library.”
John disappeared. Presently her Ladyship’s little feet—or pettitoes, as his Lordship was wont to call them—were heard pit-pat-pat-pit on the stairs. Her Ladyship was attired in a fashionably made riding-habit, with no ornament but a plain gold chain suspended round the neck, to which was attached a massive eye-glass.
“Hannah Maria Matilda, my duck—my dove,” said his Lordship, “are you ready?”
“At your Lordship’s service—you goose—I mean duck o’diamonds.”
“Your Ladyship’s slave is proud to see you look so well. As you are ready, I am ready—I am ready, my duck—but one kiss before we go.”
“Has your Lordship determined where we shall go?”
“Why, yes—into the country.”