He placed himself behind the chair of Dr. Woodford’s opposite neighbour, a shrewd business-like looking gentleman, soberly but handsomely dressed, with a certain foreign cut about his clothes, and a cravat of rich Flemish lace.  He was presented to the Doctor as Major Oakshott’s brother, Sir Peregrine.  The rest of the party consisted of Oliver and Robert, sturdy, ruddy lads of fifteen and twelve, and their tutor, Mr. Horncastle, an elderly man, who twenty years before had resigned his living because he could not bring himself to accept all the Liturgy.

While Sir Peregrine courteously relieved his sister-in-law of the trouble of carving the gammon of bacon which accompanied the veal which her husband was helping, Dr. Woodford informed her of her son’s progress towards recovery.

“Ah,” she said, “I knew you had come to tell us that he is ready to be brought home;” and her tone was fretful.

“We are greatly beholden to you, sir,” said the Major from the bottom of the table.  “The boy shall be fetched home immediately.”

“Not so, sir, as yet, I beg of you.  Neither his head nor his side can brook the journey for at least another week, and indeed my good sister Woodford will hardly know how to part with her patient.”

“She will not long be of that mind after Master Perry gets to his feet again,” muttered the chaplain.

“Indeed no,” chimed in the mother.  “There will be no more peace in the house when he is come back.”

“I assure you, madam,” said Dr. Woodford, “that he has been a very good child, grateful and obedient, nor have I heard any complaints.”

“Your kindness, or else that of Mrs. Woodford, carries you far, sir,” answered his host.

“What?  Is my nephew and namesake so peevish a scapegrace?” demanded the visitor.

On which anecdotes broke forth from all quarters.  Peregrine had greased the already slippery oak stairs, had exchanged Oliver’s careful exercise for a ribald broadsheet, had filled Mr. Horncastle’s pipe with gunpowder, and mixed snuff with the chocolate specially prepared for the peculiar godly guest Dame Priscilla Waller.  Every one had something to adduce, even the serving-men behind the chairs; and if Oliver and Robert did not add their quota, it was because absolute silence at meals was the rule for nonage.  However, the subject was evidently distasteful to the father, who changed the conversation by asking his brother questions about the young Prince of Orange and the Grand Pensionary De Witt.  For the gentleman had been acting as English attache to the Embassy at the Hague, whence he had come on affairs of State to London, and after being knighted by Charles, had newly arrived at the old home, which he had scarcely seen since his brother’s marriage.  Dr. Woodford enjoyed his conversation, and his information on foreign politics, and the Major, though now and then protesting, was evidently proud of his brother.