By degrees, as the wine circulated, the party grew gay and sociable. Levy was really an entertaining fellow: had all the gossip of the town at his fingers’-ends; and possessed, moreover, that pleasant art of saying ill-natured things of the absent, which those present always enjoy. By degrees, too, Mr. Richard Avenel came out; and as the whisper had circulated round the table that he was X. Y., he was listened to with a profound respect, which greatly elevated his spirits. Nay, when the wit tried once to show him up, or mystify him, Dick answered with a bluff spirit, that, though very coarse, was found so humorous by Lord Spendquick and other gentlemen similarly situated in the money-market, that they turned the laugh against the wit, and silenced him for the rest of the night—a circumstance which made the party go off much more pleasantly. After dinner, the conversation, quite that of single men, easy and _débonnair_, glanced from the turf, and the ballet, and the last scandal, toward politics; for the times were such that politics were discussed every where, and three of the young lords were county members. Randal said little, but, as was his wont, listened attentively; and he was aghast to find how general was the belief that the government was doomed. Out of regard to him, and with that delicacy of breeding which belongs to a certain society, nothing personal to Egerton was said, except by Avenel, who, however, on blurting out some rude expressions respecting that minister, was instantly checked by the Baron. “Spare my friend, and Mr. Leslie’s near connection,” said he, with a polite but grave smile. “Oh,” said Avenel, “public men, whom we pay, are public property—aren’t they, my lord?” appealing to Spendquick. “Certainly,” said Spendquick, with great spirit—“public property, or why should we pay them? There must be a very strong motive to induce us to do that! I hate paying people. In fact,” he subjoined, in an aside, “I never do!” “However,” resumed Mr. Avenel. graciously, “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Mr. Leslie. As to the feelings of our host, the Baron, I calculate that they have got tolerably tough by the exercise they have gone through.” “Nevertheless,” said the Baron, joining in the laugh which any lively saying by the supposed X. Y. was sure to excite—“nevertheless, ’love me, love my dog,’ love me, love my Egerton.” Randal started, for his quick ear and subtle intelligence caught something sinister and hostile in the tone with which Levy uttered this equivocal comparison, and his eye darted toward the Baron. But the Baron had bent down his face, and was regaling himself upon an olive.