im, he went
straight to his corner, expressed no surprise at his welcome by the
Madeira, and thereby apparently indicated that his appearance should
enjoy a similar immunity.

As of old, he called 'Jonathan!' and was not to be disturbed till he
did so. Seeing that Jonathan smirked and twiddled his napkin, the old
gentleman added, 'Thursday!'

But Jonathan, a man, had not his mistress's keen intuition of the
deportment necessitated by the case, or was incapable of putting the
screw upon weak excited nature, for he continued to smirk, and was
remarking how glad he was, he was sure, and something he had dared to
think and almost to fear, when the old gentleman called to him, as if
he were at the other end of the room, 'Will you order Thursday, or not,
sir?' Whereat Jonathan flew, and two or three cosy diners glanced up
from their plates, or the paper, smiled, and pursued their capital
occupation.

'Glad to see me!' the old gentleman muttered, querulously. 'Of course,
glad to see a customer! Why do you tell me that? Talk! tattle! might as
well have a woman to wait--just!'

He wiped his forehead largely with his handkerchief; as one whom
Calamity hunted a little too hard in summer weather.

'No tumbling-room for the wine, too!'

That was his next grievance. He changed the pint of Madeira from
his left side to his right, and went under his handkerchief again,
feverishly. The world was severe with this old gentleman.

'Ah! clock wrong now!'

He leaned back like a man who can no longer carry his burdens, informing
Jonathan, on his coming up to place the roll of bread and firm butter,
that he was forty seconds too fast, as if it were a capital offence, and
he deserved to step into Eternity for outstripping Time.

'But, I daresay, you don't understand the importance of a minute,' said
the old gentleman, bitterly. 'Not you, or any of you. Better if we had
run a little ahead of your minute, perhaps--and the rest of you! Do
you think you can cancel the mischief that's done in the world in that
minute, sir, by hurrying ahead like that? Tell me!'

Rather at a loss, Jonathan scanned the clock seriously, and observed
that it was not quite a minute too fast.

The old gentleman pulled out his watch. He grunted that a lying clock
was hateful to him; subsequently sinking into contemplation of his
thumbs,--a sign known to Jonathan as indicative of the old gentleman's
system having resolved, in spite of external outrages, to be