A large square missive was handed to the footman.

Thereupon the orderly trotted off.
My lord took seat at table, telling the footman to lay 'that parcel' beside the clock on the mantelpiece.

Aminta and Mrs.Lawrence gave out a little cry of bird or mouse, pitiable to hear: they could not wait, they must know, they pished at sight of plates.

His look deferred to their good pleasure, like the dead hand of a clock under key; and Weyburn placed the missive before him, seeing by the superscription that it was not official.
It was addressed, in the Roman hand of a boy's copybook writing, to General the Earl of Ormont, I.C.B., etc., Horse Guards, London.' The earl's eyebrows creased up over the address; they came down low on the contents.
He resumed his daily countenance.

'Nothing of importance,' he said to the ladies.
Mrs.Lawrence knocked the table with her knuckles.