ANTHONY. I—I hope not, sir. But as I was saying, I and this Jack Bosbury, and the Brummagem Bantam—a very pretty light-weight, sir—drank seven bottles of Burgundy to the three of us inside the eighty minutes. Jack, sir, was a little cut; but me and the Bantam went out and finished the evening on hot gin. Life, sir, life! Tom Cribb was with us. He spoke of you, too, Tom did: said you’d given him a wrinkle for his second fight with the black man. No, sir, I assure you, you’re not forgotten. AUSTIN (_bows_). I am pleased to learn it. In my time, I had an esteem for Mr. Cribb. ANTHONY. O come, sir! but your time cannot be said to be over. AUSTIN. Menteith, you hear? MENTEITH. Yes, Mr. George. ANTHONY. The Colonel told me that you liked to shake an elbow. Your big main, sir, with Lord Wensleydale, is often talked about. I hope I may have the occasion to sit down with you. I shall count it an honour, I assure you. AUSTIN. But would your aunt, my very good friend, approve? ANTHONY. Why, sir, you do not suppose I am in leading-strings? AUSTIN. You forget, child: a family must hang together. When I was young—in my time—I was alone; and what I did concerned myself. But a youth who has—as I think you have—a family of ladies to protect, must watch his honour, child, and preserve his fortune. You have no commands from Sir Frederick? ANTHONY. None, sir, none. AUSTIN. Shall I find you this noon upon the Pantiles? . . . I shall be charmed. Commend me to your aunt and your fair sister. Menteith? MENTEITH. Yes, Mr. George. (_Shows Anthony out_.) SCENE III AUSTIN, MENTEITH, _returning_ AUSTIN. Was I ever like that, Menteith? MENTEITH. No, Mr. George, you was always a gentleman. AUSTIN. Youth, my good fellow, youth. MENTEITH. Quite so, Mr. George. AUSTIN. Well, Menteith, we cannot make no mend. We cannot play the jockey with Time. Age is the test: of wine, Menteith, and men. MENTEITH. Me and you and the old Hermitage, Mr. George, he-he! AUSTIN. And the best of these, the Hermitage. But come: we lose our day. Help me off with this. (MENTEITH _takes off_ AUSTIN’S _dressing-gown_; AUSTIN _passes R. to dressing-table_, _and takes up first cravat_.) AUSTIN. Will the hair do, Menteith? MENTEITH. Never saw it lay better, Mr. George. (AUSTIN _proceeds to wind first cravat_. _A bell_: _exit_ MENTEITH. AUSTIN _drops first cravat in basket and takes second_.) AUSTIN (_winding and singing_)— ‘I’d crowns resign To call her mine, Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill!’ (_Second cravat a failure_. _Re-enter_ MENTEITH _with card_.) Fenwick? of Allonby Shaw? A good family, Menteith, but I don’t know the gentleman. (_Lays down card_, _and takes up third cravat_.) Send him away with every consideration. MENTEITH. To be sure, Mr. George. (_He goes out_. _Third cravat a success_. _Re-enter_ MENTEITH.) He says, Mr. George, that he has an errand from Miss Musgrave.