"Sir," answered Vernon, "I found, indeed, that pleasure tormented by passion was no pleasure at all, but pleasure divorced from any ulterior emotion I soon discovered to be the highest good." "So you would persuade me that you're an Epicurean who flings withered rose leaves and drinks sour wine. Come, come, sir, I wager your fingers would twitch and your lips quiver if one of us held a dice-box with a deep stake on the main." "I deny that." "We shall see." "I hope we may." "Ay, sir, and I wager this affectation of indifference will not outlast a week's ill luck, and as for woman, why the very dairymaids to-night will kindle a spark in your eyes." "My life on't, they will not," cried Vernon. "Foregad! you wear too stolid a mask to convince me it is your natural countenance." This duologue, which seems to show that Mr. Lovely was younger and less wise than we might have thought, was interrupted by the shouts of the riders in front who wanted to know whether Charles imagined they were part of a funeral pomp. "For d----e!" shouted Mr. Golightly, "we are all nodding like plumes and the twilight obscures the undeniable charms of the prospect." Baverstock Barn, like a great cathedral, loomed upon them at last. As they dismounted, revelry and the drawling chatter of rustick voices, mingled with the tuning of fiddles, came from within, while the flickering light from the open door enchanted a heap of roots to the appearance of huge gems. Clare approached the entrance while the rest stood by their horses. "Farmer Hogbin!" he sang out. "Who be caaling?" "Mr. Anthony Clare!" "Come in now, do 'ee come in." "I've brought over a party with me, farmer?" "Maids, do 'ee hear that? Maister Clare have brought wi'un a passel o' gallantry." There was much jingling merriment from the maids. "Now then Jock, Tommas, William, Jarge, Joe, Sam, Peter, Ern, move your shanks and stable they hosses." The farmer, a huge Falstaff of a man quite in proportion to his barn, towered in the doorway obscuring the light, while the farm hands clumped with heavy legs towards the horses. "Gi' they pleanty o' oats, my lads." "A' right," mumbled the lads in chorus. "Come in, my gentlemen, come in. Never mind for a speck of mud; the maids'll dust 'ee." This sally provoked a ripple of laughter from the maids, and a chuckle from the young gentlemen. The farmer surveyed them solemnly as they stepped into the barn. "Why, you be all in top-boots?" he shouted. "Ho! ho! my maids, ye'll get thy twinkling toes rarely trod on, or shall I lend 'em my slippers to each in turn?" This was considered splendid fooling, and laughter again resounded. "Nay, farmer, you're in the wrong," said Charles producing a pair of pumps from the pockets of his riding coat. "Why! dang me, if they han't brought a King's wardrobe wi'en. Eh! maids, you must mind your modesties to-night."