'It's very much thrown away on me, I know,' said Frank, who could not at all put up with the idea of sitting down to dinner without having been spoken to by his host.
'Oh, nonsense!' said his clerical friend; 'you'll enjoy yourself amazingly by and by. There is not much champagne in any other house in Barsetshire; and then the claret--' And Mr Athill pressed his lips together, and gently shook his head, meaning to signify by the motion that the claret of Gatherum Castle was sufficient atonement for any penance which a man might have to go through in his mode of obtaining it.
'Who is that funny little man sitting there, next but one to Mr de Courcy? I never saw such a queer fellow in my life.'
'Don't you know old Bolus? Well, I thought every one in Barsetshire knew Bolus; you especially should do so, as he is such a dear friend of Dr Thorne.'
'A dear friend of Dr Thorne?'
'Yes; he was apothecary at Scarington in the old days, before Dr Fillgrave came into vogue. I remember when Bolus was thought to be a very good sort of doctor.'
'Is he--is he--' whispered Frank, 'is he by way of a gentleman?'
'Ha! ha! ha! Well, I suppose we must be charitable, and say that he is quite as good, at any rate, as many others there are here--' and Mr Athill, as he spoke, whispered into Frank's ear, 'You see there's Finnie here, another Barchester attorney. Now, I really think where Finnie goes, Bolus may go too.'
'The more the merrier, I suppose,' said Frank.
'Well, something a little like that. I wonder why Thorne is not here?
I'm sure he was asked.'
'Perhaps he did not particularly wish to meet Finnie and Bolus. Do you know, Mr Athill, I think he was quite right not to come. As for myself, I wish I was anywhere else.'
'Ha! ha! ha! You don't know the duke's ways yet; and what's more, you're young, you happy fellow! But Thorne should have more sense; he ought to show himself here.'
The gormandizing was now going on at a tremendous rate. Though the volubility of their tongues had been for a while stopped by the first shock of the duke's presence, the guests seemed to feel no such constraint upon their teeth. They fed, one may almost say, rabidly, and gave their orders to the servants in an eager manner; much more impressive than that usual at smaller parties. Mr Apjohn, who sat immediately opposite to Frank, had, by some well-planned manoeuvre, contrived to get before him the jowl of a salmon; but, unfortunately, he was not for a while equally successful in the article of sauce. A very limited portion--so at least thought Mr Apjohn--had been put on his plate; and a servant, with a huge sauce tureen, absolutely passed behind his back inattentive to his audible requests. Poor Mr Apjohn in his despair turned round to arrest the man by his coat-tails; but he was a moment too late, and all but fell backwards on the floor. As he righted himself he muttered an anathema, and looked with a face of anguish at his plate.
'Anything the matter, Apjohn?' said Mr Fothergill, kindly, seeing the utter despair written on the poor man's countenance; 'can I get anything for you?'
'The sauce!' said Mr Apjohn, in a voice that would have melted a hermit; and as he looked at Mr Fothergill, he point at the now distant sinner, who was dispensing his melted ambrosia at least ten heads upwards, away from the unfortunate supplicant.
Mr Fothergill, however, knew where to look for balm for such wounds, and in a minute or two, Mr Apjohn was employed quite to his heart's content.
'Well,' said Frank to his neighbour, 'it may be very well once in a way; but I think that on the whole Dr Thorne is right.'
