"What was he doing there?" demanded R——.
"Up to his tricks again, my Lord," replied the steward, drily.
"Is he much hurt?" R—— asked.
"No, my Lord; not much," said the steward.
"Have you done anything for the eye?" continued R—— in his interrogation.
"Cook has put on a poultice, my Lord," answered the steward, "a piece of raw beef."
"Oh! that's it, is it?" replied R——, quietly, regaining his self-possession.
"Yes, my Lord," rejoined the steward, with firmness, holding a positive belief in his own, and the cook's efficacious remedy.
"Well," observed R——, with deliberate quaintness, "don't boil it in our soup afterwards."
"No, my Lord," and the steward took his leave, understanding his master's disposition, and knowing that his dialogues with him generally resulted in a compliment to the traditionary cleanliness of persons in his office.