Epistolary composition was not an accomplishment in which the old sailor was an adept, and the mechanical part of the operation was a very slow one with him, by reason of his infirmities; but nevertheless he managed to indite a missive more or less to his mind, long before the early mail went out from Coveton, and his faithful attendant did his bidding by posting the same. CHAPTER VII. THE TRIUMPHAL ARCH. |IT is the morning that immediately precedes Sir Richard's fete-day, and all at the Abbey are as busy as a hive of bees. Mrs Welsh is engaged in incessant warfare with a “professed cook” of the male sex, who has been imported from town with an army of myrmidons clad in white aprons and head-pieces; and Mr Roberts carries the key of the cellar about his person as religiously as though it were an amulet, exceedingly regretting that the person who has undertaken to purvey the cold collation to the tenantry does not also furnish the wine. For three shillings or three shillings and sixpence the bottle, he argues, as good a sherry as they have any right to taste might be set before Farmer Beeves and that sort and yet we are about to give them the old “West India,” as stood old Sir Robert sixty shillings a dozen a quarter of a century ago; nay, even four dozen of cobweb-bed port, the age of which is absolutely unknown, have been set aside for the after-dinner tickling of those rough palates, which would as lief or liever (thinks Mr Roberts) have gin and whisky-punch. The gentle folks, to be sure, dine with them, but you never catch _them_ (Mr E. has observed) doing much in the way of drink at a three o'clock dinner in a marquee. There is to be dancing in the said tent, which has been boarded for that purpose, later in the evening; and a ball will take place at the Abbey likewise, to which all the “county” has been invited, and perhaps a little more. It was a difficult matter even for Sir Richard, who had a specialty for such solemn follies, to decide exactly what were “county families” and what were not, and where the imaginary line that divided the ball-room from the marquee was to be laid down. The social difference between the person of the least importance that had the _entrée_ of the former, and the person of the greatest importance who was consigned to the latter was, of course, infinitesimally small, and the decision involved all the difficulties with which the theologians afflict themselves concerning the future position of the indifferently Good and the tolerably Bad.