“She’s a valuable woman--a very valuable woman. Tell her, Rickards, that I drank her health in a bumper. Yes, up to the brim with it. She shall have all the honours.” “Something sweet, Sir? A little cherry tart?” “Well, a little cherry tart I’ ll not object to. No, no, Rickards, don’t open champagne for me.” “It’s in the ice, Sir, and quite ready.” “Let it stay there. I’m very simple about both eating and drinking. I’d not have made a bad hermit, if I hadn’t been a lawyer.” “No, indeed, Sir! I never saw a gentleman so easily pleased. You’re not like Mr. Grenfell, Sir, that has the bill of fare brought up every morning to his dressing-room; ay, and M. Honoré himself, too, summoned, just as if it was before a magistrate, to explain what’s the meaning of this, and why he doesn’t do the other.” “Your master permits this?” “He likes it, Sir; he laughs heartily at it.” “And the ladies, do they like it?” “Oh, Mr. Grenfell only comes over to Beau Park when the ladies is away, Sir, up in town, or at the sea-side.” “He’s no favourite of theirs, then?” “I don’t believe they ever saw him, Sir. At all events, he was never down with us when we were all at home.” “I suspect I know why,” said M’Kinlay, knowingly. “Yes, Sir,” replied Rickards, as knowingly, while he took up a jar of pickled onions from the sideboard, and held it ostentatiously forward. “You’re right, Rickards, you’ve hit it correctly. One glass more of that admirable wine. What’s that great ringing at the gate? Is that your mistress?” “No, Sir. The lodge people have orders never to keep her waiting; they always have a look-out when she’s coming. There it is again. If you’ll excuse me a moment, Sir, I’d better step out and see what it means!” The permission was graciously accorded, and Mr. M’Kinlay emptied the last of the Madeira into his glass, discussing with himself whether the world had anything really more enjoyable to offer than a simple cottage life, with a good cook, and a capital cellar! Little heed did he give to the absence of Rickards, nor was he in the least aware that the bland butler had been above a quarter of an hour away, when he entered flushed and excited. “It’s the same as a burglary, Sir, there’s no difference; and it’s by good luck you are here to declare the law of it!” “What’s the matter--what has happened, Rickards?” “They’re in the drawing-room, Sir; they walked in by the open windows; there was no keeping them out.” “Who are in the drawing-room?” “The tourists, Sir,” exclaimed Rickards. “The tourists! The people that would force their way into Windsor Castle and go through it, if the King was at his dinner there!”