Chapter 64

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.

AUSTIN (_with waistcoat_). Show him in, Menteith, at once. (_Singing and fitting waistcoat at glass_)—

‘I’d crowns resign To call her mine, Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill!’