While Tommy Creed was gone on this errand, Miss Costigan sate below with Mrs. Creed, telling her landlady how Mr. Arthur Pendennis's uncle, the major, was above stairs; a nice, soft-spoken old gentleman: that butter wouldn't melt in his mouth; and how Sir Derby had gone out of the room in a rage of jealousy, and thinking what must be done to pacify both of them.
"She keeps the keys of the cellar, major," said Mr. Costigan, as the girl left the room.
"Upon my word you have a very beautiful butler," answered Pendennis, gallantly, "and I don't wonder at the young fellows raving about her. When we were of their age, Captain Costigan, I think plainer women would have done our business."
"Faith, and ye may say that, sir—and lucky is the man who gets her. Ask me friend Bob Bows here whether Miss Fotheringay's moind is not even shuparior to her person, and whether she does not possess a cultiveated intellect, a refoined understanding, and an emiable disposition?"
"O, of course," said Mr. Bows, rather drily. "Here comes Hebe blushing from the cellar. Don't you think it is time to go to rehearsal, Miss Hebe? You will be fined if you are later"—and he gave the young lady a look, which intimated that they had much better leave the room and the two elders together.
At this order Miss Hebe took up her bonnet and shawl, looking uncommonly pretty, good-humored, and smiling; and Bows gathered up his roll of papers, and hobbled across the room for his hat and cane.
"Must you go?" said the major. "Can't you give us a few minutes more, Miss Fotheringay? Before you leave us, permit an old fellow to shake you by the hand, and believe that I am proud to have had the honor of making your acquaintance, and am most sincerely anxious to be your friend."
Miss Fotheringay made a low courtesy at the conclusion of this gallant speech, and the major followed her retreating steps to the door, where he squeezed her hand with the kindest and most paternal pressure. Bows was puzzled with this exhibition of cordiality: "The lad's relatives can't be really wanting to marry him to her," he thought—and so they departed.
"Now for it," thought Major Pendennis: and as for Mr. Costigan he profited instantaneously by his daughter's absence to drink up the rest of the wine; and tossed off one bumper after another of the Madeira from the Grapes, with an eager, shaking hand. The major came up to the table, and took up his glass and drained it with a jovial smack. If it had been Lord Steyne's particular, and not public-house Cape, he could not have appeared to relish it more.