Meanwhile, unconscious of this premature obituary, Sir Jeremy Dummer enjoyed the breakfast amazingly. At first he was inclined to peevishness through not being seated upon a sufficiently high chair. Mr. Daish, however, with ready tact secured one of the Civick cushions and so enabled Sir Jeremy, comfortably ensconced in crimson velvet, to eat his last breakfast at ease. Mr. Lovely having made the acquaintance of the Honourable George Harthe-Brusshe, by whom he had seated himself at the particular request of Mr. Ripple, discussed with animation the food on his plate and the last foppery of the town. Mr. Harthe-Brusshe, a lantern jawed young gentleman with a sincere devotion to turtle-soup, observing that Mr. Lovely was about to leave his portion, begged him to hand it over. Charles who invariably encouraged every man's idiosyncrasy sent the word down the table to pass up every neglected plateful. This request was readily granted and presently Mr. Harthe-Brusshe found himself surrounded by half-a-dozen portions. Thereupon he declined all other dishes and was faithful to soup for the rest of the meal. "I suppose you find the difference in temperature sufficient variety?" asked Mr. Lovely in a tone of great interest. "That's so, Sir," replied the other as he refused beef and veal for the sake of a moderately warm fifth plate of soup. "I doubt you keep a bottle of it always to hand," remarked Lovely. "It would tire me too much. It tires me to keep things to hand." Here the Honourable George Harthe-Brusshe sighed with exhaustion and seemed to desire silence. Charles turned to his other neighbour who happened to be Mr. Francis Vernon. "Are you making a sojourn here, Sir?" Vernon noticed the richness of Mr. Lovely's attire, made a rough calculation of the value of his buckles, brooches and solitaire, and answered very politely he hoped so indeed. "I've not yet seen you at the _Blue Boar_, Sir. We make up a pleasant party in the old Coffee-Room every night. There's young Tom Chalkley of the Foot, Tony Clare, Peter Wingfield, Jack Winnington, Harry Golightly of Campbell's Grey Dragoons, Blewforth of the _Lively_, and as many more of us pass the time very pleasantly over some tolerable Port and very excellent Burgundy." "I doubt the company is delightful." "'I faith, that's very true for when the wine makes us loquacious, d---- e, we sing, and when it makes us mum, why, d----e, the dice-box talks for us. You'll join us, Sir?" he added, turning to Mr. Harthe-Brusshe. "Proud," murmured that gentleman pensively regarding the rich scum slowly hardening over the plate of soup to be attacked next. "Let me see," said Charles, "to-night we must positively keep quiet in deference to the Beau. Monday night I've promised to go to the Assembly."