could manage that--Pendennis could--he used to do half the chaps' verses
--and yet"--the young gentleman broke out, "you are his guardian; and I
hope you will pardon me for saying that I think he's what we call flat,"
the candid young gentleman said.

The Major found himself on the instant in the midst of a most interesting
and confidential conversation. "And how is Arthur a flat?" he asked, with
a smile.

"You know," Foker answered, winking at him--he would have winked at the
Duke of Wellington with just as little scruple, for he was in that state
of absence, candour, and fearlessness which a man sometimes possesses
after drinking a couple of bottles of wine--"You know Arthur's a flat,--
about women I mean."

"He is not the first of us, my dear Mr. Harry," answered the Major. "I
have heard something of this--but pray tell me more."

"Why, sir, you see--it's partly my fault. He went to the play one night--
for you see I'm down here readin' for my little go during the Long, only
I come over from Baymouth pretty often in my drag--well, sir, we went to
the play, and Pen was struck all of a heap with Miss Fotheringay--
Costigan her real name is--an uncommon fine gal she is too; and the next
morning I introduced him to the General, as we call her father--a regular
old scamp and such a boy for the whisky-and-water!--and he's gone on
being intimate there. And he's fallen in love with her--and I'm blessed
if he hasn't proposed to her," Foker said, slapping his hand on the
table, until all the dessert began to jingle.

"What! you know it too?" asked the Major.