Felix and Oliver, a few yards distant, were waiting with rising tempers.
The spectacle of the Baron in his native might of physique, humbly
standing, hat in hand, before this Court messenger, discoursing on
cherries, and offering flowers and fruit, filled them with anger and
disgust. The affected gesture and subdued voice of the courtier, on the
other hand, roused an equal contempt.

As Lord John turned, he saw them. He did not quite guess their
relationship, but supposed they were cadets of the house, it being
customary for those in any way connected to serve the head of the
family. He noted the flag basket in Felix's hand, and naturally imagined
that he had been at work.

"You have been to-to plough, eh?" he said, intending to be very gracious
and condescending. "Very healthy employment. The land requires some
rain, does it not? Still I trust it will not rain till I am home, for my
plume's sake," tossing his head. "Allow me," and as he passed he offered
Oliver a couple of cigars. "One each," he added; "the best Devon."

Oliver took the cigars mechanically, holding them as if they had been
vipers, at arm's length, till the courtier had left the garden, and the
hedge interposed. Then he threw them into the water-carrier. The best
tobacco, indeed the only real tobacco, came from the warm Devon land,
but little of it reached so far, on account of the distance, the
difficulties of intercourse, the rare occasions on which the merchant
succeeded in escaping the vexatious interference, the downright robbery
of the way. Intercourse was often entirely closed by war.

These cigars, therefore, were worth their weight in silver, and such
tobacco could be obtained only by those about the Court, as a matter of