Chapter 67

AUSTIN, MENTEITH

AUSTIN. Menteith, I am going to be married.

MENTEITH. Well, Mr. George, but I am pleased to hear it. Miss Musgrave is a most elegant lady.

AUSTIN. Ay, Mr. Menteith? and who told you the lady’s name?

MENTEITH. Mr. George, you was always a gentleman.

AUSTIN. You mean I wasn’t always? Old boy, you are in the right. This shall be a good change for both you and me. We have lived too long like a brace of truants: now is the time to draw about the fire. How much is left of the old Hermitage?

MENTEITH. Hard upon thirty dozen, Mr. George, and not a bad cork in the bin.

AUSTIN. And a mistress, Menteith, that’s worthy of that wine.

MENTEITH. Mr. George, sir, she’s worthy of you.

AUSTIN. Gad, I believe it. (_Shakes hands with him_.)

MENTEITH (_breaking down_). Mr. George, you’ve been a damned good master to me, and I’ve been a damned good servant to you; we’ve been proud of each other from the first; but if you’ll excuse my plainness, Mr. George, I never liked you better than to-day.

AUSTIN. Cheer up, old boy, the best is yet to come. Get out the tongs, and curl me like a bridegroom. (_Sits before dressing-glass_; MENTEITH _produces curling irons and plies them_. AUSTIN _sings_)—

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

DROP