He never forgets you and he never should." Again Todd answered the knocker and Major Clayton, Richard Horn, and Mr.
Latrobe joined the group.

The major, who was rather stout, apologized for his light seersucker coat, due, as he explained, to the heat, although his other garments were above criticism.

Richard, however, looked as if he had just stepped out of an old portrait in his dull-blue coat and white silk scarf, St.George's eyes lighting up as he took in the combination--nothing pleased St.George so much as a well-dressed man, and Richard never disappointed him, while Latrobe, both in his dress and dignified bearing, easily held first place as the most distinguished looking man in the room.
The Honorable Prim now stalked in and shook hands gravely and with much dignity, especially with Mr.Kennedy, whose career as a statesman he had always greatly admired.

St.George often said, in speaking of this manner of the Scotchman's, that Prim's precise pomposity was entirely due to the fact that he had swallowed himself and couldn't digest the meal; that if he would once in a while let out a big, hearty laugh it might split his skin wide enough for him to get a natural breath.
St.George kept his eyes on Harry when the boy stepped forward and shook Prim by the hand, but he had no need for anxiety.

The face of the young prince lighted up and his manner was as gracious as if nothing had ever occurred to mar the harmony between the Seymour clan and himself.
Everybody had seated themselves now--Malachi having passed around a course of palm-leaf fans--Clayton, Latrobe, and Horn at one open window overlooking the tired trees--it was in the dog days--Seymour and the judge at the other, while St.George took a position so that he could catch the first glimpse of the famous poet as he crossed the Square--( it was still light), the dinner hour having arrived and Todd already getting nervous.
Once more the talk dwelt on the guest of honor--Mr.Kennedy, who, of all men of his time, could best appreciate Poe's genius, and who, with Mr.
Latrobe, had kept it alive, telling for the hundredth time the old story of his first meeting with the poet, turning now and then to Latrobe for confirmation.
"Oh, some ten or more years ago, wasn't it, Latrobe?
We happened to be on the committee for awarding a prize story, and Poe had sent in his 'Manuscript in a Bottle' among others.