pected individual, Mr. Welldrum, the
butler--"Drum, you have heard perhaps about my being poorly."

"Ay, that I have, and too much of it," replied the portly butler, busy
in his office with inferior work, which he never should have had to do,
if rightly estimated. "What you wants, Master Lancelot, is a little more
of this here sort of thing--sleeves up--elbow grease--scrub away at hold
ancient plate, and be blowed up if you puts a scratch on it; and the
more you sweats, the less thanks you gets."

"Drum, when you come to be my butler, you shall have all the keys
allowed you, and walk about with them on a great gold ring, with a gold
chain down to your breeches pocket. You shall dine when you like, and
have it cooked on purpose, and order it directly after breakfast; and
you shall have the very best hot-water plates; because you hate grease,
don't you, Drum?"

"That I do; especial from young chaps as wants to get something out of
me."

"I am always as good as my word; come, now."

"That you are, Sir; and nothing very grand to say, considering the
hepithets you applies to me sometimes. But you han't insulted me for
three days now; and that proves to my mind that you can't be quite
right."

"But you would like to see me better. I am sure you would. There is
nobody so good to you as I am, Drum; and you are very crusty at times,
you know. Your daughter shall be the head cook; and then everything must
be to your liking."

"Master Lancelot, you speaks fair. What can I have the honor of doing
for you, Sir, to set you up again in your poor dear 'ealth?"

"Well, you hate physic, don't you, Drum? And you make a strict point of
never taking it."

"I never knew no good to come out of no bottle, without it were a bottle
of old crusted port-wine. Ah! you likes that, Master Lancelot."

"I'll tell you what it is, Drum; I am obliged to be very careful. The
reason why I don't get on is from taking my meals too much in-doors.
There is no fresh air in these old rooms. I have got a man who says--I
could read it to you; but perhaps you don't care to hear poetry, Drum?"
The butler made a face, and put the leather to his ears. "Very well,
then; I am only just beginning; and it's like claret, you must learn to
come to it. But from what he says, and from my own stomach, I intend to
go and dine out-of-doors to-day."

"Lord! Master Lancelot, you must be gone clean daft. How ever could you
have hot gravy, Sir? And all the Yordases hale