The Maid-At-Arms | Page 9

loud gong filled the
hall with its brazen din; but nobody came.
"Where the devil are those blacks?" said Dorothy, biting off her words
with a crisp snap that startled me more than her profanity. "Cato!
Where are you, you lazy--"
"Ahm hyah, Miss Dorry," came a patient voice from the kitchen stairs.
"Then bring something to eat--bring it to the gun-room
instantly--something for Captain Ormond--and a bottle of Sir Lupus's
own claret--and two glasses--"
"Three glasses!" cried Ruyven.
"Four!" "Five!" shouted Harry and Cecile.
"Six!" added Samuel; and little Benny piped out, "Theven!"
"Then bring two bottles, Cato," called out Dorothy.

"I want some small-beer!" protested Benny.
"Oh, go suck your thumbs," retorted Ruyven, with an elder brother's
brutality; but Dorothy ordered the small-beer, and bade the negro
hasten.
"We all mean to bear you company, Cousin," said Ruyven, cheerfully,
patting my arm for my reassurance; and truly I lacked something of
assurance among these kinsmen of mine, who appeared to lack none.
"You spoke of me as Captain Ormond," I said, turning with a smile to
Dorothy.
"Oh, it's all one," she said, gayly; "if you're not a captain now, you will
be soon, I'll wager--but I'm not to talk of that before the children--"
"You may talk of it before me," said Ruyven. "Harry, take Benny and
Sam and Cecile out of earshot--"
"Pooh!" cried Harry, "I know all about Sir John's new regiment--"
"Will you hush your head, you little fool!" cut in Dorothy. "Servants
and asses have long ears, and I'll clip yours if you bray again!"
The jingling of glasses on a tray put an end to the matter; Cato, the
black, followed by two more blacks, entered the hall bearing silver
salvers, and at a nod from Dorothy we all trooped after them.
"Guests first!" hissed Dorothy, in a fierce whisper, as Ruyven crowded
past me, and he slunk back, mortified, while Dorothy, in a languid
voice and with the air of a duchess, drawled, "Your arm, cousin," and
slipped her hand into my arm, tossing her head with a heavy-lidded,
insolent glance at poor Ruyven.
And thus we entered the gun-room, I with Dorothy Varick on my arm,
and behind me, though I was not at first aware of it, Harry, gravely
conducting Cecile in a similar manner, followed by Samuel and Benny,
arm-in-arm, while Ruyven trudged sulkily by himself.

III
COUSINS
There was a large, discolored table in the armory, or gun-room, as they
called it; and on this, without a cloth, our repast was spread by Cato,
while the other servants retired, panting and grinning like over-fat
hounds after a pack-run.
And, by Heaven! they lacked nothing for solid silver, my cousins the
Varicks, nor yet for fine glass, which I observed without appearance of
vulgar curiosity while Cato carved a cold joint of butcher's roast and
cracked the bottles of wine--a claret that perfumed the room like a
garden in September.
"Cousin Dorothy, I have the honor to raise my glass to you," I said.
"I drink your health, Cousin George," she said, gravely--"Benny, let
that wine alone! Is there no small-beer there, that you go coughing and
staining your bib over wine forbidden? Take his glass away, Ruyven!
Take it quick, I say!"
Benny, deprived of his claret, collapsed moodily into a heap, and sat
swinging his legs and clipping the table, at every kick of his shoon,
until my wine danced in my glass and soiled the table.
"Stop that, you!" cried Cecile.
Benny subsided, scowling.
Though Dorothy was at some pains to assure me that they had dined
but an hour before, that did not appear to blunt their appetites. And the
manner in which they drank astonished me, a glass of wine being
considered sufficient for young ladies at home, and a half-glass for lads
like Harry and Sam. Yet when I emptied my glass Dorothy emptied
hers, and the servants refilled hers when they refilled mine, till I grew
anxious and watched to see that her face flushed not, but had my

anxiety for my pains, as she changed not a pulse-beat for all the red
wine she swallowed.
And Lord! how busy were her little white teeth, while her pretty eyes
roved about, watchful that order be kept at this gypsy repast. Cecile and
Harry fell to struggling for a glass, which snapped and flew to flakes
under their clutching fingers, drenching them with claret.
"Silence!" cried Dorothy, rising, eyes ablaze. "Do you wish our cousin
Ormond to take us for manner-less savages?"
"Why not?" retorted Harry. "We are!"
"Oh, Lud!" drawled Cecile, languidly fanning her flushed face, "I
would I had drunk small-beer--Harry, if you kick me again I'll pinch!"
"It's a shame," observed Ruyven, "that gentlemen of our age may not
take a glass