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630 THE ADVENTURES OF PHILIP
So he had not been invited to dine at the Park ? We rallied him
with much facetiousness on this disappointment.
Little Bradgate's eyes started with wrath. " What a churl the
little black fellow is !" he cried. " I took him his papers. I
talked with him till dinner was laid in the very room where we
were. French beans and neck of venison—I saw the housekeeper
and his man bring them in ! And Mr. Woolcomb did not so much
as ask me to sit down to dinner—but told me to come again at
nine o'clock ! Confound this mutton—it's neither hot nor cold !
The little skinflint ! " The glasses of fiery sherry which Bradgate
now swallowed served rather to choke than appease the lawyer.
We laughed, and this jocularity angered him more. "Oh," said
he, " I am not the only person Woolcomb was rude to. He was in
a dreadful ill temper. He abused his wife: and when he read somebody's
name in the strangers' book, I promise you, Firmin, he abused
you. I had a mind to say to him, ' Sir, Mr. Firmin is dining at
the " Ringwood Arms," and I will tell him what you say of him.'
What india-rubber mutton is this ! What villainous sherry ! Go
back to him at nine o'clock, indeed! Be hanged to his impudence!".
"You must not abuse Woolcomb before Firmin," said one of
our party. " Philip is so fond of his cousin's husband, that he
cannot bear to hear the black man abused."
This was not a very brilliant joke, but Philip grinned at it with
much savage satisfaction.
" Hit Woolcomb as hard as you please, he has no friends here,
Mr. Bradgate," growled Philip. "So he is rude to his lawyer,
is her ?"
" I tell you he is worse than the old Earl," cried the indignant
Bradgate. "At least the old man was a peer of England, and
could be a gentleman when he wished. But to be bullied by a
fellow who might be a black footman, or ought to be sweeping a
crossing! It's monstrous !"
" Don't speak ill of a man and a brother, Mr. Bradgate. Woolcomb
can't help his complexion."
" But he can help his confounded impudence, and shan't practise
it on me ! " the attorney said.
As Bradgate called out from his box, puffing and fuming, friend
J. J. was scribbling in the little sketch-book which he always
carried. He smiled over his work. "I know," he said, "the
Black Prince well enough. I have often seen him driving his chestut
mares in the Park, with that bewildered white wife by his side.
[ am sure that woman is miserable, and, poor thing _______ "
" Serve her right ! What did an English lady mean by marrying
such a fellow ?" cries Bradgate,