Frank Mildmay by Frederick Marryat

'Twill be time to go home. What shall I say I have done? It must be a very plausive invention that carries it. I find my tongue is too foolhardy. -- SHAKESPEARE.

Reaching the well known mansion of my father, I knocked softly at the front door, was admitted, and, without saying a word to the servant, rushed to the head of the dining-room table, and threw my arms round my mother's neck, who only screamed, "Good heavens, my child! " and fell into hysterics. My father, who was in the very midst of helping his soup, jumped up to embrace me and assist my mother. The company all rose, like a covey of partridges: one lady spoiled a new pink satin gown by a tip of the elbow from her next neighbour, just as a spoonful of soup had reached "the rosy portals of her mouth; " the little spaniel, Carlo, set up a loud and incessant bark; and in one minute the whole comely arrangement of the feast was converted into anarchy and confusion.