"I called him a Frenchified fool, whereas he is a downright
Englishman! I shall ask him to dinner next week, if Jemima can get a new
leg for the dripping-pan."
Following warily, with Gunner Bob behind him, and not disdaining the
strong arm of the owner, the Captain of Foxhill was landed in the vault,
and being there, made a strict examination. He even poked his short
sword into the bung-holes of three or four empty barrels, that Bob might
be satisfied also in his conscience. "Matter of form," he said, "matter
of form, sir, when we know who people are; but you might have to do it
yourself, sir, if you were in the service of your King. You ought to be
that, Mr. Carne; and it is not too late, in such days as these are, to
begin. Take my advice--such a fine young man!"
"Alas, my dear sir, I cannot afford it. What officer can live upon his
pay for a generation?"
"Gospel truth!" cried the Captain, warmly; "Gospel truth! and more than
that--he must be the last of his generation, or else send his young 'uns
to the workhouse. What things I could tell you, Mr. Carne! But here we
are at the end of the vaults; all empty, as I can certify; and I hope,
my dear sir, that you may live to see them filled with good wine, as
they used to be."
"Thank you, but there is no hope of that. Shall we take the vaults
of the other end next, or examine the chapel, and the outer
buildings--outer ruins, I should say?"
"Oh, a little open air first, for goodness sake!" said the Captain,
going heavily up the old steps; "I am pretty nearly choked with all this
mildew.
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