Andalusian with the loose shoe as a clumsy-looking brute, high in flesh. Richmond having gone off to confer with his groom, his lordship commanded Hugo to accompany him back to the house. “I’ve a good deal to say to you,” he informed him. “I’ll see you in the library after breakfast.”
Few members of his family would have sat down to breakfast with much appetite after such a pronouncement as this, but although a slightly wary expression came into Hugo’s eyes his appetite remained unimpaired, and he was soon consuming an extremely hearty meal. The fact that his cousin Anthea had chosen to seat herself on the opposite side of the table troubled him not at all. Glancing dispassionately at her, he was able to verify his first impression that she was a pretty girl, with remarkably fine eyes, and a good deal of countenance. It seemed a pity that she should be so cold and inanimate when a little vivacity would have done so much to improve her.
Neither Vincent nor Claud was an early riser, and each incurred censure for walking into the breakfast parlour when the meal was nearly over. Vincent, never in his sunniest mood before breakfast, furiously resented the scold he received, but betrayed this only by his thinned lips and a certain glitter in his eyes. Claud, on the other hand, was unwise enough to excuse himself. Owing to the stupidity of his man, the carelessness of the laundress, and the inexplicable whims of Fate, which decreed that although one might sometimes achieve a desired result at the first attempt, at others success would elude one until one was exhausted, it had taken him three quarters of an hour to tie his neckcloth. The style he had chosen was the Mailcoach, and as it was as bulky as it was wide, he bore all the appearance of having bound a compress round a sore throat, as his brother took care to inform him.
“Jack-at-warts!” said his lordship bitterly.
Everyone waited for him to develop this theme, but he said no more, merely staring fixedly at Claud under such lowering brows that that unfortunate exquisite became so much discomposed that he took an unwary gulp of tea and scalded his mouth, “I have it!” suddenly announced his lordship, grimly triumphant. “I’ll set you to work!” “Eh?” ejaculated Claud, alarmed.
“You are a Bartholomew baby, a park-saunterer, a good-for-nothing Jack Straw!” said his fond grandfather.
“Well, I shouldn’t put it like that myself, sir,” said Claud, “but I daresay you’re right. Well, what I mean is, no use setting me to work: I couldn’t!”
“A smock-faced wag-feather!” pursued my lord inexorably. “Your only talent is for alamodality!”
“Well, there you are, sir!” Claud pointed out. “A certain sort of something!” mocked Vincent.
“That’s what I’ll turn to good account!” said his lordship. “You can teach Hugh how to pass himself off with credit! Give him a new touch! Rid him of that damned brogue! You don’t know much, but you’ve moved in the first circles all your life, and you do know the established mode!”
“Father! Really—!” Matthew exclaimed.
“Cousin Hugo doesn’t need any touch that Claud could give him!” declared Richmond, scarlet-faced.
Hugo, who had continued throughout this embarrassing dialogue to eat his way through several slices of cold beef, looked up from his plate to smile amiably, and to say, with a marked Yorkshire drawl: “Nay, I’d be fain to learn how to support the character of a gentleman. I’ve a fancy to be up to the knocker, and I’ll be well-suited to be put in the way of it. And I should think,” he added handsomely, “that our Claud could teach me better nor most.”
“Exactly so!” said Vincent. “An assinego may tutor thee!”
“To support the character of a gentleman!” exclaimed Anthea, unexpectedly entering the lists. “In this house, cousin, unless you will be content with my brother, you will search in vain for a model!”
“You keep your
Few members of his family would have sat down to breakfast with much appetite after such a pronouncement as this, but although a slightly wary expression came into Hugo’s eyes his appetite remained unimpaired, and he was soon consuming an extremely hearty meal. The fact that his cousin Anthea had chosen to seat herself on the opposite side of the table troubled him not at all. Glancing dispassionately at her, he was able to verify his first impression that she was a pretty girl, with remarkably fine eyes, and a good deal of countenance. It seemed a pity that she should be so cold and inanimate when a little vivacity would have done so much to improve her.
Neither Vincent nor Claud was an early riser, and each incurred censure for walking into the breakfast parlour when the meal was nearly over. Vincent, never in his sunniest mood before breakfast, furiously resented the scold he received, but betrayed this only by his thinned lips and a certain glitter in his eyes. Claud, on the other hand, was unwise enough to excuse himself. Owing to the stupidity of his man, the carelessness of the laundress, and the inexplicable whims of Fate, which decreed that although one might sometimes achieve a desired result at the first attempt, at others success would elude one until one was exhausted, it had taken him three quarters of an hour to tie his neckcloth. The style he had chosen was the Mailcoach, and as it was as bulky as it was wide, he bore all the appearance of having bound a compress round a sore throat, as his brother took care to inform him.
“Jack-at-warts!” said his lordship bitterly.
Everyone waited for him to develop this theme, but he said no more, merely staring fixedly at Claud under such lowering brows that that unfortunate exquisite became so much discomposed that he took an unwary gulp of tea and scalded his mouth, “I have it!” suddenly announced his lordship, grimly triumphant. “I’ll set you to work!” “Eh?” ejaculated Claud, alarmed.
“You are a Bartholomew baby, a park-saunterer, a good-for-nothing Jack Straw!” said his fond grandfather.
“Well, I shouldn’t put it like that myself, sir,” said Claud, “but I daresay you’re right. Well, what I mean is, no use setting me to work: I couldn’t!”
“A smock-faced wag-feather!” pursued my lord inexorably. “Your only talent is for alamodality!”
“Well, there you are, sir!” Claud pointed out. “A certain sort of something!” mocked Vincent.
“That’s what I’ll turn to good account!” said his lordship. “You can teach Hugh how to pass himself off with credit! Give him a new touch! Rid him of that damned brogue! You don’t know much, but you’ve moved in the first circles all your life, and you do know the established mode!”
“Father! Really—!” Matthew exclaimed.
“Cousin Hugo doesn’t need any touch that Claud could give him!” declared Richmond, scarlet-faced.
Hugo, who had continued throughout this embarrassing dialogue to eat his way through several slices of cold beef, looked up from his plate to smile amiably, and to say, with a marked Yorkshire drawl: “Nay, I’d be fain to learn how to support the character of a gentleman. I’ve a fancy to be up to the knocker, and I’ll be well-suited to be put in the way of it. And I should think,” he added handsomely, “that our Claud could teach me better nor most.”
“Exactly so!” said Vincent. “An assinego may tutor thee!”
“To support the character of a gentleman!” exclaimed Anthea, unexpectedly entering the lists. “In this house, cousin, unless you will be content with my brother, you will search in vain for a model!”
“You keep your
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