where you'll be more
comfortable."

"There's no draught here, mamma," said Ophelia, without the slightest
sign of moving. Perhaps Ophelia liked the society of that lanky,
idle, useless young man.

The mirth of the table certainly came from Mrs Greenow's end. The
widow had hardly taken her place before she got up again and changed
with the captain. It was found that the captain could better carve
the great grouse pie from the end than from the side. Cheesacre, when
he saw this, absolutely threw down his knife and fork violently upon
the table. "Is anything the matter?" said Maria's mother.

"Matter!" said he. Then he shook his head in grief of heart and
vexation of spirit, and resumed his knife and fork. Kate watched
it all, and was greatly amused. "I never saw a man so nearly
broken-hearted," she said, in her letter to Alice the next day.
"Eleven, thirteen, eighteen, twenty-one," said Cheesacre to himself,
reckoning up in his misery the number of pounds sterling which he
would have to pay for being ill-treated in this way.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Captain Bellfield, as soon as the eating
was over, "if I may be permitted to get upon my legs for two minutes,
I am going to propose a toast to you." The real patron of the feast
had actually not yet swallowed his last bit of cheese. The thing was
indecent in the violence of its injustice.

"If you please, Captain Bellfield," said the patron, indifferent to
the cheese in his throat, "I'll propose the toast."

"Nothing on earth could be better, my dear fellow," said the captain,
"and I'm sure I should be the last man in the world to take the job
out of the hands of one who would do it so much better than I can;
but as it's your health that we're going to drink, I really don't see
how you are to do it."

Cheesacre grunted and sat down. He certainly could not propose his
own health, nor did he complain of the honour that was to be done
him. It was very proper that his health should be drunk, and he had
now to think of the words in which he would return thanks. But the
extent of his horror may be imagined when Bellfield got up and made a
most brilliant speech in praise of Mrs Greenow. For full five minutes
he went on without mentioning the name of Cheesacre. Yarmouth, he
said, had never in his days been so blessed as it had been this year
by the presence of the lady who was now with them. She had come among
them, he declared, forgetful of herself and of her great so