The gallant adventurer tied to his shop! Alternate footman and marquis, out of intermediate tailor! Isn't there something fine in his buffoon imitation of the real thing?
I feel already that old Mel belongs to me.
Where is the great man buried?
Where have they, set the funeral brass that holds his mighty ashes ?' Lady Jocelyn's humour was fully entered into by the men.

The women smiled vacantly, and had a common thought that it was ill-bred of her to hold forth in that way at table, and unfeminine of any woman to speak continuously anywhere.
'Oh, come!' cried Mr.George, who saw his own subject snapped away from him by sheer cleverness; 'old Mel wasn't only a buffoon, my lady, you know.

Old Mel had his qualities.

He was as much a "no-nonsense" fellow, in his way, as a magistrate, or a minister.' 'Or a king, or a constable,' Aunt Bel helped his illustration.
'Or a prince, a poll-parrot, a Perigord-pie,' added Drummond, whose gravity did not prevent Mr.George from seeing that he was laughed at.
'Well, then, now, listen to this,' said Mr.George, leaning his two hands on the table resolutely.

Dessert was laid, and, with a full glass beside him, and a pear to peel, he determined to be heard.
The Countess's eyes went mentally up to the vindictive heavens.