Lionel and his bride were expected momentarily, and the company of all grades formed themselves into groups as they awaited them.  They had been married in London some ten days ago, where Sir Henry Tempest had remained, after quitting Deerham with Lucy.  The twelvemonth had been allowed to go by consequent to the death of Sibylla.  Lionel liked that all things should be done decorously and in order.  Sir Henry was now on a visit to Sir Edmund Hautley and Decima:  he was looking out for a suitable residence in the neighbourhood, where he meant to settle.  This gathering at Verner’s Pride to welcome Lionel, had been a thought of Sir Henry’s and old Mr. Bitterworth’s.  “Why not give the poor an afternoon’s holiday for once?” cried Sir Henry.  “I will repay them the wages they must lose in taking it.”  And so—­here was the gathering, and Tynn had carried out his orders for the supply of plenty to eat and drink.

They formed in groups, listening for the return of the carriage, which had gone in state to the railway station to receive them.  All, save Master Cheese.  He walked about somewhat disconsolately, thinking the proceedings rather slow.  In his wandering he came upon Tynn, placing good things upon one of the tables, which was laid in an alcove.

“When’s the feasting going to begin?” asked he.

“Not until Mr. Verner shall have come,” replied Tynn.  “The people will be wanting to cheer him; and they can’t do that well, if they are busy round the tables, eating.”

“Who’s the feast intended for?” resumed Master Cheese.

“It’s chiefly intended for those who don’t get feasts at home,” returned Tynn.  “But anybody can partake of it that pleases.”

“I should like just a snack,” said Master Cheese.  “I had such a short dinner to-day.  Now that all those girls are stuck down at the dining-table, Miss Deb sometimes forgets to ask one a third time to meat,” he added in a grumbling tone.  “And there was nothing but a rubbishing rice pudding after it to-day!  So I’d like to take a little, Tynn.  I feel quite empty.”

“You can take as much as you choose,” said Tynn, who had known Master Cheese’s appetite before to-day.  “Begin at once, if you like, without waiting for the others.  Some of the tables are spread.”

“I think I will,” said Master Cheese, looking lovingly at a pie on the table over which they were standing.  “What’s inside this pie, Tynn?”

Tynn bent his head to look closely.  “I think that’s partridge,” said he.  “There are plenty of other sorts:  and there’s a vast quantity of cold meats; beef and ham, and that.  Sir Henry Tempest said I was not to stint ’em.”

“I like partridge pie,” said Master Cheese, as he seated himself before it, his mouth watering.  “I have not tasted one this season.  Do you happen to have a drop of bottled ale, Tynn?”

“I’ll fetch a bottle,” answered Tynn.  “Is there anything else you’d like, sir?”