ty, so that they
were good friends now). And so, as his dinner took place at six o'clock
to a minute, and the sunset business alluded to may be supposed to have
occurred at about half-past seven, it is probable that he did not much
care for the view in front of his lawn windows or take any share in the
poetry and caresses which were taking place there.

They seldom occurred in his presence. However frisky they were before,
mother and child were hushed and quiet when Mr. Pendennis walked into
the drawing-room, his newspaper under his arm. And here, while little
Pen, buried in a great chair, read all the books of which he could lay
hold, the Squire perused his own articles in the 'Gardener's Gazette,'
or took a solemn hand at picquet with Mrs. Pendennis, or an occasional
friend from the village.

Pendennis usually took care that at least one of his grand dinners
should take place when his brother, the Major, who, on the return of
his regiment from India and New South Wales, had sold out and gone upon
half-pay, came to pay his biennial visit to Fairoaks. "My brother, Major
Pendennis," was a constant theme of the retired Doctor's conversation.
All the family delighted in my brother the Major. He was the link which
bound them to the great world of London, and the fashion. He always
brought down the last news of the nobility, and was in the constant
habit of dining with lords and great folks. He spoke of such with
soldierlike respect and decorum. He would say, "My Lord Bareacres has
been good enough to invite me to Bareacres for the pheasant shooting,"
or, "My Lord Steyne is so kind as to wish for my presence at Stillbrook
for the Easter holidays;" and you may be sure the whereabouts of my
brother the Major was carefully made known by worthy Mr. Pendennis to
his friends at the Clavering Reading room, at Justice-meetings, or at
the County-town. Their carriages would come from ten miles round to call
upon Major Pendennis in his visits to Fairoaks; the fame of his fashion
as a man about town was established throughout the county. There was a
talk of his marrying Miss Hunkle, of Lilybank, old Hunkle the Attorney's
daughter, with at least fifteen hundred a-year to her fortune: but my
brother the Major refused this negotiation, advantageous as it might
seem to most persons. "As a bachelor," he said, "nobody cares how poor I
am. I have the happiness to live with people who are so highly placed in
the world, that a few hundreds or t