breakfast was to be eaten, and whether it was put on table to be looked at only.
From Pentyre Glaze Mr. Menaida was not greatly successful in obtaining guests. He found some wild-looking men there in converse with Coppinger, men whom he knew by rumor to belong to a class that had no ostensible profession and means of living.
Mr. Menaida had ordered in clotted cream, which would not keep sweet many days. It ought to be eaten at once. He wanted to know whether Coppinger, the bride, Miss Trevisa, anyone was coming to his house to consume the clotted cream. As Jamie was drifting about purposeless, and he alone seemed disposed to accompany Uncle Zachie, the old gentleman carried him off.
"I s'pose I can't on the spur of the moment go in and ask over St. Minver parson?" asked Menaida, dubiously, of the St. Enodoc parson. "You see I daresay he's hurt not to have had the coupling of 'em himself."
"Most certainly not," said Mr. Mules; "an appetite is likely to go into faintness unless attended to at once. I know that the coats of my stomach are honeycombed with gastric juice. Shall I say grace? Another half-hour of delay will finish me."
Consequently but three persons sat down to a plentiful meal; but some goose, cold, had hardly been served, when in came Mr. Scantlebray, the agent, with a cheery salutation of "Hulloa, Menaida, old man! What, eating and drinking? I'll handle a knife and fork with you, unasked. Beg pardon, Mr, Mules. I'm a rough man, and an old acquaintance of our good friend here. Hope I see you in the enjoyment of robust health, sir. Oh, Menaida, old man! I didn't expect such a thing as this. Now I begin to see daylight, and understand why I was turned out of the valuership, and why my brother lost this promising young pupil. Ah, ha! my man, you have been deprived of fun, such fun, roaring fun, by not being with my brother Scanty. Well, sir," to Mr. Mules, "what was the figure of the valuation? You had a queer man on your side. I pity you. A man I wouldn't trust myself. I name no names. Now tell me, what did you get?"
"A hundred and twenty-seven pounds four and ninepence farthing. Monstrous—a chouse."
"As you say, monstrous. Why that chancel, show me
