ory. 'I think we meet at your father's table to-night?
It won't be in the Tower, take my word for it. Oh! the papers! There's no
Act to compel a man to deny what appears in the papers. No such luck as
the Tower!--though Littlepitt (Mr. Wedderburn's nickname for our Premier)
would be fool enough for that. He would. If he could turn attention from
his Bill, he'd do it. We should have to dine off Boleyn's block:--coquite
horum obsonia he'd say, eh?''

Jennings espied my father's carriage, and stepped to speak a word to the
footman. He returned, saying, with a puff of his cheeks: 'The Grand
Monarque has been sending his state equipage to give the old backbiting
cripple Brisby an airing. He is for horse exercise to-day they've dropped
him in Courtenay Square. There goes Brisby. He'd take the good
Samaritan's shilling to buy a flask of poison for him. He 'll use Roy's
carriage to fetch and carry for that venomous old woman Kane, I'll
swear.'

'She's a male in Scripture,' said Wedderburn, and this reminded me of an
anecdote that reminded him of another, and after telling them, he handed
round his hat for the laugh, as my father would have phrased it.

'Has her ladyship declared war?' Sir Weeton Slater inquired.

'No, that's not her preliminary to wageing it,' Wedderburn replied. These
high-pressure smart talkers had a moment of dulness, and he bethought him
that he must run into the Club for letters, and was busy at Westminster,
where, if anything fresh occurred between meridian and six o'clock, he
should be glad, he said, to have word of it by messenger, that he might
not be behind his Age.

The form of humour to express the speed of the world was common, but it
struck me as a terrible illustration of my father's. I had still a sense
of pleasure in the thought that these intimates of his were gentlemen who
relished and, perhaps, really liked him. They were not parasites; not the
kind of men found hanging about vulgar profligates.

I quitted them. Sir Weeton Slater walked half-a-dozen steps beside me.
'May I presume on a friendly acquaintance with your father, Mr.
Richmond?' he said. 'The fact is--you will not be offended?--he is apt to
lose his head, unless the Committee of Supply limits him very precisely.
I am aware that there is no material necessity for any restriction.' He
nodded to me as to one of the marvellously endowed, as who should say,
the Gods presided at your birth. The worthy baronet struggled to impart
h