"And pray," inquired Barnabas, "may I ask what brings you sitting in
this place of thought?"
"Three things, sir, namely, matrimony, a horse race, and a father.
Three very serious matters, sir, and the last the gravest of all.
For you must know I am, shall I say--blessed? yes, certainly,
blessed in a father who is essentially Roman, being a man of his word,
sir. Now a man of his word, more especially a father, may prove a
very mixed blessing. Speaking of fathers, generally, sir, you may
have noticed that they are the most unreasonable class of beings,
and delight to arrogate to themselves an authority which is, to say
the least, trying; my father especially so--for, as I believe I
hinted before, he is so infernally Roman."
"Indeed," smiled Barnabas, "the best of fathers are, after all, only
human."
"Aha!" cried his Lordship, "there speaks experience. And yet, sir,
these human fathers, one and all, believe in what I may term the
divine right of fathers to thwart, and bother, and annoy sons old
enough to be--ha--"
"To know their own minds," said Barnabas.
"Precisely," nodded his Lordship. "Consequently, my Roman father and
I fell out--my honored Roman and I frequently do fall out--but this
morning, sir, unfortunately 't was before breakfast." Here his
Lordship snatched a hasty bite of bread and meat with great appetite
and gusto, while Barnabas sat, dreamy of eye, staring away across
the valley.
"Pray," said he suddenly, yet with his gaze still far away,
"do you chance to be acquainted with a Sir Mortimer Carnaby?"
"Acquainted," cried his Lordship, speaking with his mouth full.
"Oh, Gad, sir, every one who is any one is acquainted with Sir
Mortimer Carnaby."
"Ah!" said Barnabas musingly, "then you probably know him."
"He honors me with his friendship."
"Hum!" said Barnabas.
Here his Lordship glanced up quickly and with a slight contraction
of the brow.
"Sir," he retorted, with a very creditable attempt at dignity,
despite the stocks and his hunch of bread and meat, "Sir, permit me
to add that I am proud of his friendship."
"And pray," inquired Barnabas, turning his eyes suddenly to his
companion's face, "do you like him?"
"Like him, sir!"
"Or trust him!" persisted Barnabas, steadfast-eyed.
"Trust him, sir," his Lordship repeated, his gaze beginning to wander,
"trust him!" Here, chancing to espy what yet remained of the bread
and meat, he immediately took another bite, and when he spoke it was
in a somewhat muffled tone in consequence. "Trust him? Egad, sir,
the boot's on t'other leg, for 'twixt you and me, I owe him a cool
thousand, as it is!"