Do you mind the night Fitzhugh made you so prodigiously drunk at Bonn, Tommy?
And we put you in the kneading-trough, and the servants found you and shifted you to the horse-trough?
Gad! you would have died of laughter if you could have seen yourself when we rescued you, lank and dripping, with your wig like a sponge!' 'It must have been--uncommonly diverting!' the Reverend Frederick stammered; and he smiled widely, but with a lack of heart.

This time there could be no doubt of the pinkness that overspread his face.
'Diverting?
I tell you it would have made old Dartmouth laugh!' Sir George said, bluntly.
'Ha, ha! Perhaps it would.

Perhaps it would.

Not that I have the honour of his lordship's acquaintance.' 'No?
Well, he would not suit you, Tommy.

I would not seek it.' The Reverend Frederick looked doubtful, as weighing the possibility of anything that bore the name of lord being alien from him.