"Did you truly say that, Sir Peter?" I asked, wincing while my ears grew hot.
"Say it? I did not say it, I bellowed it!" He shrugged his shoulders and took snuff with an air. "The minx finds you agreeable," he observed; "why?--God knows!"
"I had not thought so," I said, in modest deprecation, yet warming at his words.
"Oh--had not thought so!" he mimicked, mincing over to the dressing-table and surveying the array of perfumes and pomades and curling irons. "Carus, you shameless rake, you've robbed all Queen Street! Essence, pomade-de-grasse, almond paste, bergamot, orange, French powder! By Heaven, man, do you mean to take the lady by storm or set up a rival shop to Smith's 'Sign of the Rose'? Here, have your man leave those two puffs above the ears; curl them loosely--that's it! Now tie that queue-ribbon soberly; leave the flamboyant papillon style to those damned Lafayettes and Rochambeaux! Now dust your master, Dennis, and fetch a muslinet waistcoat--the silver tambour one. Gad, Carus, I'd make a monstrous fine success at decorating fops for a guinea a head--eh?"
He inspected me through his quizzing glass, nodded, backed away in feigned rapture, and presently sat down by the window, stretching his well-shaped legs.
"Damme," he said, "I meant to ask what's new, but you chatter on so that I have no chance for a word edgeways. Now, what the devil is new with you?"
"Nothing remarkable," I said, laughing. "Did you come to terms with Mr. Rutgers for his meadows?"
"No," he replied irritably, "and I care nothing for his damned swamps full of briers and mud and woodcock."
"It is just as well," I said. "You can not afford more land at present."
"That's true," he admitted cheerfully; "I'm spending too much. Gad, Carus, the Fifty-fourth took it out of us at that thousand-guinea main! Which reminds me to say that our birds at Flatbush are in prime condition and I've matched them."
I looked up at him doubtfully. Our birds had brought him nothing but trouble so far.
"Let it pass," he said, noticing my silent disapproval; "we'll talk to Horrock in the morning. Which reminds me that I have no money." He laughed, drew a paper from his coat, and unfolding it, read aloud:
"1 pipe Madeira @ £90 per pipe--£90 1 pipe Port @ £46 per pipe--£46 20 gallons Fayal @ 5s. per gal.-- 20 gallons Lisbon @ 5s. per gal.-- 10 gallons Windward I. rum @ 4s. per gal."