“Does he know how late it is?” whispered Augustus to his father. “Does he know we are waiting dinner?” “I'll tell him,” and Colonel Bramleigh walked forward from his place before the fire. “I'm afraid, my Lord, the cold air of our hills has not given you an appetite?” “Quite the contrary, I assure you. I am very hungry.” “By Jove, and so are we!” blurted out Jack; “and it's striking eight this instant.” “What is your dinner-hour?” “It ought to be seven,” answered Jack. “Why, Cutbill, you told me nine.” Cutbill muttered something below his breath, and turned away; and Lord Culduff laughingly said, “I declare I don't perceive the connection. My friend, Colonel Bramleigh, opines that a French cook always means nine-o'clock dinner. I 'm horrified at this delay: let us make a hasty toilette, and repair our fault at once.” “Let me show you where you are lodged,” said Temple, not sorry to escape from the drawing-room at a moment when his friend's character and claims were likely to be sharply criticised. “Cutty's a vulgar dog,” said Jack, as they left the room. “But I 'll be shot if he's not the best of the two.” A haughty toss of Marion's head showed that she was no concurring party to the sentiment. “I 'm amazed to see so young a man,” said Colonel Bramleigh. “In look at least, he is n't forty.” “It's all make-up,” cried Jack. “He can't be a great deal under seventy, taking the list of his services. He was at Vienna as private secretary to Lord Borchester--” As Augustus pronounced the words Lord Culduff entered the room in a fragrance of perfume and a brilliancy of color that was quite effective; for he wore his red ribbon, and his blue coat was lined with white silk, and his cheeks glowed with a bloom that youth itself could not rival. “Who talks of old Borchester?” said he, gayly. “My father used to tell me such stories of him. They sent him over to Hanover once, to report on the available Princesses to marry the Prince: and, egad! he played his part so well that one of them--Princess Helena I think it was--fell in love with him; and if it was 't that he had been married already,--May I offer my arm?” And the rest of the story was probably told as he led Miss Bramleigh in to dinner. Mr. Cutbill only arrived as they took their places, and slunk into a seat beside Jack, whom, of all the company, he judged would be the person he could feel most at ease with. “What a fop!” whispered Jack, with a glance at the peer. “Is n't he an old humbug?” muttered Cutbill. “Do you know how he managed to appear in so short a time? We stopped two hours at a little inn on the road while he made his toilette; and the whole get-up--paint and padding and all--was done then. The great fur pelisse, in which he made his entrance into the drawing-room, removed, he was in full dinner-dress underneath. He's the best actor living.” “Have you known him long?”