"Remove that toast-rack, Dates; and this plate of tongue, and bring the rolls nearer, and wheel the stand farther off, good Dates." Having thus made generous room for himself, Pierre commenced operations, interrupting his mouthfuls by many sallies of mirthfulness. "You seem to be in prodigious fine spirits this morning, brother Pierre," said his mother. "Yes, very tolerable; at least I can't say, that I am low-spirited exactly, sister Mary;--Dates, my fine fellow, bring me three bowls of milk." "One bowl, sir, you mean," said Dates, gravely and imperturbably. As the servitor left the room, Mrs. Glendinning spoke. "My dear Pierre, how often have I begged you never to permit your hilariousness to betray you into overstepping the exact line of propriety in your intercourse with servants. Dates' look was a respectful reproof to you just now. You must not call Dates, _My fine fellow_. He _is_ a fine fellow, a very fine fellow, indeed; but there is no need of telling him so at my table. It is very easy to be entirely kind and pleasant to servants, without the least touch of any shade of transient good-fellowship with them." "Well, sister, no doubt you are altogether right; after this I shall drop the _fine_, and call Dates nothing but _fellow_;--Fellow, come here!--how will that answer?" "Not at all, Pierre--but you are a Romeo, you know, and so for the present I pass over your nonsense." "Romeo! oh, no. I am far from being Romeo--" sighed Pierre. "I laugh, but he cried; poor Romeo! alas Romeo! woe is me, Romeo! he came to a very deplorable end, did Romeo, sister Mary." "It was his own fault though." "Poor Romeo!" "He was disobedient to his parents." "Alas Romeo!" "He married against their particular wishes." "Woe is me, Romeo!" "But you, Pierre, are going to be married before long, I trust, not to a Capulet, but to one of our own Montagues; and so Romeo's evil fortune will hardly be yours. You will be happy." "The more miserable Romeo!" "Don't be so ridiculous, brother Pierre; so you are going to take Lucy that long ride among the hills this morning? She is a sweet girl; a most lovely girl." "Yes, that is rather my opinion, sister Mary.--By heavens, mother, the five zones hold not such another! She is--yes--though I say it--Dates!--he's a precious long time getting that milk!" "Let him stay.--Don't be a milk-sop, Pierre!" "Ha! my sister is a little satirical this morning. I comprehend." "Never rave, Pierre; and never rant. Your father never did either; nor is it written of Socrates; and both were very wise men. Your father was profoundly in love--that I know to my certain knowledge--but I never heard him rant about it. He was always exceedingly gentlemanly: and gentlemen never rant. Milk-sops and Muggletonians rant, but gentlemen never." "Thank you, sister.--There, put it down, Dates; are the horses ready?" "Just driving round, sir, I believe."