"An old schoolfellow of mine, Mr. Foker," said Pen. The Doctor said
"H'm": and scowled at the cigar. He did not mind a pipe in his study, but
the cigar was an abomination to the worthy gentleman.

"I came up on Bishop's business," the Doctor said. "We'll ride home,
Arthur, if you like?"

"I--I'm engaged to my friend here," Pen answered.

"You had better come home with me," said the Doctor.

"His mother knows he's out, sir," Mr. Foker remarked; "don't she,
Pendennis?"

"But that does not prove that he had not better come home with me," the
Doctor growled, and he walked off with great dignity.

"Old boy don't like the weed, I suppose," Foker said. "Ha! who's here?--
here's the General, and Bingley, the manager. How do, Cos? How do,
Bingley?"

"How does my worthy and gallant young Foker?" said the gentleman
addressed as the General; and who wore a shabby military cape with a
mangy collar, and a hat cocked very much over one eye.

"Trust you are very well, my very dear sir," said the other gentleman,
"and that the Theatre Royal will have the honour of your patronage
to-night. We perform 'The Stranger,' in which your humble servant
will---"