voice and with the air of a duchess, drawled, "Your arm, cousin," and
slipped her hand into my arm, tossing her head with a heavy-lidded,
insolent glance at poor Ruyven.

And thus we entered the gun-room, I with Dorothy Varick on my arm, and
behind me, though I was not at first aware of it, Harry, gravely
conducting Cecile in a similar manner, followed by Samuel and Benny,
arm-in-arm, while Ruyven trudged sulkily by himself.



III

COUSINS

There was a large, discolored table in the armory, or gun-room, as they
called it; and on this, without a cloth, our repast was spread by Cato,
while the other servants retired, panting and grinning like over-fat
hounds after a pack-run.

And, by Heaven! they lacked nothing for solid silver, my cousins the
Varicks, nor yet for fine glass, which I observed without appearance of
vulgar curiosity while Cato carved a cold joint of butcher's roast and
cracked the bottles of wine--a claret that perfumed the room like a
garden in September.

"Cousin Dorothy, I have the honor to raise my glass to you," I said.

"I drink your health, Cousin George," she said, gravely--"Benny, let
that wine alone! Is there no small-beer there, that you go coughing and