The things we do!

" "Since his last attack," Barnes used to say, "my poor old
governor is exceedingly shaky, very groggy about the head;" which was the
fact. Barnes was already master at Newcome and the bank, and awaiting
with perfect composure the event which was to place the blood-red hand of
the Newcome baronetcy on his own brougham.
Casting his eyes about the room, a heap of drawings, the work of a
well-known hand which he hated, met his eye. There were a half-dozen
sketches of Baden; Ethel on horseback again; the children and the dogs
just in the old way. "D--- him, is he here?" screams out Barnes. "Is that
young pothouse villain here? and hasn't Kew knocked his head off? Is
Clive Newcome here, sir," he cries out to his father. "The Colonel's son.
I have no doubt they met by----"
"By what, Barnes?" says Ethel.
"Clive is here, is he?" says the Baronet; "making caricatures, hey? You
did not mention him in your letters, Lady Anne."
Sir Brian was evidently very much touched by his last attack.


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