then, do!"

On his way to the cellar the man confided to Molly, who was carrying the
soup:

"The Gov'nor's going it to-night! What he'll be like tomorrow I dunno."

The girl answered softly:

"Poor old man, let um have his pleasure." And, in the hall, with the
soup tureen against her bosom, she hummed above the steam, and thought of
the ribbons on her new chemises, bought out of the sovereign he had given
her.

And old Heythorp, digesting his osyters, snuffed the scent of the
hyacinths, and thought of the St. Germain, his favourite soup. It would
n't be first-rate, at this time of year--should be made with little young
home-grown peas. Paris was the place for it. Ah! The French were the
fellows for eating, and--looking things in the face! Not hypocrites--not
ashamed of their reason or their senses!

The soup came in. He sipped it, bending forward as far as he could, his
napkin tucked in over his shirt-front like a bib. He got the bouquet of
that sherry to a T--his sense of smell was very keen to-night; rare old
stuff it was--more than a year since he had tasted it--but no one drank
sherry nowadays, hadn't the constitution for it! The fish came up, and
went down; and with the sweetbread he took his second glass of champagne.
Always the best, that second glass--the stomach well warmed, and the
palate not yet dulled. Umm! So that fellow thought he had him beaten,
did he? And he said suddenly:

"The fur coat in the wardrobe, I've no use for it. You can take it away
to-night."

With tempered gratitude the valet answered:

"Thank you, sir; much obliged, I'm sure." So the old buffer had found
out there was moth in it!

"Have I worried you much?"

"No, sir; not at all, sir--that is, no more than reason."

"Afraid I have. Very sorry--can't help it. You'll find that, when you
get like me."

"Yes, sir; I've always admired your pluck, sir.

"Um! Very good of you to say so."

"Always think of you keepin' the flag flying', sir."

Old Heythorp bent his body from the waist.

"Much obliged to you."

"Not at all, sir. Cook's done a little spinach in cream with the
soubees."

"Ah! Tell her from me it's a capital dinner, so far."

"Thank you, sir."

Alone again, old Heythorp sat unmoving, his brain just narcotically
touched. "The flag flyin'--the flag flyin'!" He raised his glass and
sucked. He had an appetite now, and finished the three cutlets, and all
the sauce and spinach. Pity! he