The major did not smile in the least, though he had every reason to be amused. "Monstrous handsome young man that—as fine a looking soldier as ever I saw," he said to Costigan.
"A credit to the army and to human nature in general," answered Costigan. "A young man of refoined manners, polite affabilitee, and princely fortune. His table is sumptuous: he's adawr'd in the regiment: and he rides sixteen stone."
"A perfect champion," said the major, laughing. "I have no doubt all the ladies admire him."
"He's very well in spite of his weight, now he's young," said Milly; "but he's no conversation."
"He's best on horseback," Mr. Bows said: on which Milly replied, that the baronet had ridden third in the steeple-chase on his horse Tareaways, and the major began to comprehend that the young lady herself was not of a particular genius, and to wonder how she should be so stupid and act so well.
Costigan, with Irish hospitality, of course pressed refreshment upon his guest: and the major, who was no more hungry than you are after a Lord Mayor's dinner, declared that he should like a biscuit and a glass of wine above all things, as he felt quite faint from long fasting—but he knew that to receive small kindnesses flatters the donors very much, and that people must needs grow well disposed toward you as they give you their hospitality.
"Some of the old Madara, Milly, love," Costigan said, winking to his child—and that lady, turning to her father a glance of intelligence, went out of the room, and down the stair, where she softly summoned her little emissary Master Tommy Creed; and giving him a piece of money, ordered him to go buy a pint of Madara wine at the Grapes, and sixpennyworth of sorted biscuits at the baker's, and to return in a hurry, when he might have two biscuits for himself.