As soon as be could speak for
the stairs and the smoke, the Major began to ask Pen very kindly about
himself and about his mother; for blood is blood, and he was pleased once
more to see the boy.
Pen gave his news, and then introduced Mr. Warrington--an old Boniface
man--whose chambers he shared.
The Major was quite satisfied when he heard that Mr. Warrington was a
younger son of Sir Miles Warrington of Suffolk. He had served with an
uncle of his in India and in New South Wales, years ago.
"Took a sheep-farm there, sir, made a fortune--better thing than law or
soldiering," Warrington said. "Think I shall go there too." And here the
expected beer coming in, in a tankard with a glass bottom, Mr.
Warrington, with a laugh, said he supposed the Major would not have any,
and took a long, deep draught himself, after which he wiped his wrist
across his beard with great satisfaction. The young man was perfectly
easy and unembarrassed. He was dressed in a ragged old shooting jacket,
and had a bristly blue beard. He was drinking beer like a coalheaver, and
yet you couldn't but perceive that he was a gentleman.
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