“Me kick Beauty!—­after that!—­’Pon my soul, I should just as soon have thought of kicking my own grandmother.  I did give her a leettle—­a very leettle shove, just with the point of my toe, as I was going to pull the bell; but it couldn’t have hurt a fly.  I assure you it would be one of the last action of my life to treat Beauty ill—­Beauty!—­poor Beauty!”—­affecting to pat and soothe, by way of covering his transgression.  But neither Beauty nor her mistress were to be taken in by the Doctor’s cajolerie.  The one felt, and the other saw the indignity he had committed; and his caresses and protestations were all in vain.  The fact was, the Doctor’s indignation was so raised by Lady Juliana’s remark, made in all the plenitude of a late luncheon, that, had it been herself instead of her favourite, he could scarcely have refrained from this testimony of his detestation and contempt.  But much as he despised her, he felt the necessity of propitiating her at this moment, when dinner itself depended upon her decision; for Lord Courtland was perfectly neutral, Lady Emily as not present, and a servant waited to receive orders.

“I really believe it’s hunger that’s vexing her poor brute!” continued he, with an air of us feigned sympathy; “she knows the dinner hour as well as any of us.  Indeed, the instinct of dogs in that respect is wonderful.  Providence has really—­ahem!—­indeed it’s no joke to tamper with dogs, when they’ve got the notion of dinner in their heads.  A friend of mine had a very fine animal—­just such another as poor Beauty there—­she had always been accustomed, like Beauty, to attend the family to dinner at a particular hour; but one day, by some accident, instead of sitting down at five, she was kept waiting till half-past six; the consequence was, the disappointment, operating upon an empty stomach, brought on an attack of the hydrophobia, and the poor thing was obliged to be shot the following morning.  I think your Lordship said—­Dinner,” in a loud voice to the servant; and Lady Juliana, though still sullen, did not dissent.

For an hour the Doctor’s soul was in a paradise still more substantial than a Turk’s; for it was lapt in the richest of soups and ragouts, and, secure of their existence, it smiled at ladies of quality, and deified their lap-dogs.

Dinner passed away, and supper succeeded, and breakfast; dinner and supper revolved, and still no Lord Lindore appeared.  But this excited no alarm in the family.  It was Lord Courtland’s way, and it was Lady Juliana’s way, and it was all their ways, not to keep to their appointed time, and they therefore experienced none of the vulgar consternation incident to common minds when the expected guest fails to appear.  Lady Emily indeed wondered, and was provoked, and impatient; but she was not alarmed; and Mary amused herself with contrasting in her own mind the difference of her aunts’ feelings in similar circumstances.