We entered in a respectful hush that might have flattered His Grace of Wellington himself; and the waiters, I believe, would have gone on all fours but for the difficulty of reconciling that posture with efficient service. I knew myself at last for a Personage; a great English landowner, and did my best to command the mien proper to that tremendous class when, the meal despatched, we passed out between the bowing ranks to the door where our chaise stood ready.
"But hullo!" said I at sight of it, and my eye sought Rowley's.
"Begging your pardon, sir, but I took it on myself to order the colour, and hoping it wasn't a liberty."
"Claret and invisible green—a duplicate, but for a bullet-hole wanting."
"Which I didn't like to go so far on my own hook, Mr. Anne."
"We fight under the old colours, my lad."
"And walk in and win this time, sir, strike me lucky!"
While we bowled along the first stage towards London—Mr. Romaine and I within the chaise and Rowley perched upon the dickey—I told the lawyer of our progress from Aylesbury to Kirkby-Lonsdale. He took snuff.
"Forsitan et hæc olim—that Rowley of yours seems a good-hearted lad, and less of a fool than he looks. The next time I have to travel post with an impatient lover I'll take a leaf out of his book and buy me a flageolet."
"Sir, it was ungrateful of me"
"Tut, tut, Mr. Anne. I was fresh from my little triumph, that is all, and perhaps would have felt the better for a word of approbation—a little pat on the back, as I may say. It is not often that I have felt the need of it—twice or thrice in my life, perhaps; not often enough to justify my anticipating your example and seeking a wife
