The New Rector by Stanley J. Weyman

When Lord Dynmore, a few minutes before the rector found his carriage at the door, trotted at the heels of the servant into Mrs. Hammond's drawing-room, his entrance, unexpected as it was, caused a flutter among those assembled there. Lords are still lords in the country, and in the case of his hostess the sensation was wholly one of pleasure. She was pleased to see him. She was still more pleased that he had chosen to call at so opportune a moment, when his light would not be hidden, and James had on his best waistcoat. Consequently she rose to meet him with a beaming smile, and a cordiality only chastened by the knowledge that Mrs. Homfray and the archdeacon's wife were observing her with critical jealousy. "Why, Lord Dynmore," she exclaimed, "this is most kind of you!"

"How d'ye do? how d'ye do? " said the peer as he advanced. He was a slight, short man with bushy gray whiskers and grizzled hair which, being rather long, strayed over the fur collar of his overcoat. A noble aquiline nose and keen eyes helped to give him, despite his shortness, an air of being somebody. "How d'ye do? Why," he continued, locking round, "you are quite _en fête_ here."