Whilst such thoughts were passing through Lady Penelope's mind, Mowbray was searching with his eyes for the Earl of Etherington, judging that it might be proper, in the course of the entertainment, or before the guests had separated, to make him formally acquainted with his sister, as a preface to the more intimate connexion which must, in prosecution of the plan agreed upon, take place betwixt them. Greatly to his surprise, the young Earl was no where visible, and the place which he had occupied by the side of Lady Binks had been quietly appropriated by Winterblossom, as the best and softest chair in the room, and nearest to the head of the table, where the choicest of the entertainment is usually arranged. This honest gentleman, after a few insipid compliments to her ladyship upon her performance as Queen of the Amazons, had betaken himself to the much more interesting occupation of ogling the dishes, through the glass which hung suspended at his neck by a gold chain of Maltese workmanship. After looking and wondering for a few seconds, Mowbray addressed himself to the old beau-garcon, and asked him what had become of Etherington. "Retreated," said Winterblossom, "and left but his compliments to you behind him--a complaint, I think, in his wounded arm.--Upon my word, that soup has a most appetizing flavour!--Lady Penelope, shall I have the honour to help you?--no!--nor you, Lady Binks?--you are too cruel!--I must comfort myself, like a heathen priest of old, by eating the sacrifice which the deities have scorned to accept of." Here he helped himself to the plate of soup which he had in vain offered to the ladies, and transferred the further duty of dispensing it to Mr. Chatterly; "it is your profession, sir, to propitiate the divinities--ahem!" "I did not think Lord Etherington would have left us so soon," said Mowbray; "but we must do the best we can without his countenance."