Redgill offered up a silent
thanksgiving that this _fracas_ had not happened ten minutes sooner,
otherwise the woodcocks would have been as cold as death. Chairs were
placed by the officious attendants in every possible direction; and the
discarded first course was threatening to displace the third. But Lord
Lindore seemed quite insensible to all these attentions; he stood
surveying the company with a _nonchalance_ that had nothing of rudeness
in it, but seemed merely the result of high-bred ease. His eye, for a
moment, rested upon Adelaide. He then slightly bowed and smiled, as in
recognition of their juvenile acquaintance.
"I really can't recommend either the turtle soup or the venison to your
Lordship to-day," said Dr. Redgill, who experienced certain uneasy
sensations at the idea of beholding them resume their stations,
something resembling those which Macbeth testified at sight of Banquo's
ghost, or Hamlet on contemplating Yorick's skull--"after travelling,
there is nothing like a light dinner; allow me to recommend this
_prretty, leettle cuisse de poulet en papillote;_ and here are some
fascinating _beignets d'abricots_--quite foreign."
"If there is any roast beef or boiled mutton to be had, pray let me have
it," said Lord Lindore, waving off the zealous _maitre d'hotel,_
as he kept placing dish after dish before him.
"Roast beef, or boiled mutton!" ejaculated the Doctor, with a sort of
internal convulsion; "he is certainly mad.
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