what it all meant, how he had spent his
Christmas, what had become of his breeches, and all about it.

'Here, John,' said Mr. Hardesty, seating himself by the fire, 'sit here
and I'll tell you all about it. But what an old fool I am! Here's
twenty-four blessed hours gone, and the d----l a bit or a drop have I had
since last night at supper. Is this my house or not, John? for I've forgot
every thing except one, and wouldn't swear I ain't dreaming, and haven't
been all day.'

The boy gave him every assurance that he was at home.

'Well, John,' pursued the master, 'I think the last time I was here--it
may be a year, or it may be more--I'll be hanged if I know--but I rather
think there was a lot of prime cheese, and a few barrels of crackers. You
haven't sold 'em all, John?'

John smiled, and answered negatively.

'I rather think, too, there were several casks of best three-year-old
whiskey, prime lot; any of _that_ left, John?'

John pointed, in reply, to a row of casks in one corner that answered the
description.

'No! stop, Sir!' said Mr. Hardesty, soliloquizing; 'I think she said
Madeira was good for it. Yes, John, I'll take a little of the Madeira, if
you've any on hand.'

John opened a cupboard door, and producing a black quart-bottle, assured
Mr. Hardesty it was nearly full.

'That'll do, Sir,' said the grocer. 'Set the table; never mind the cloth.
Crackers and cheese and old Madeira, and 'away with melancholy.''

In a few minutes the table was spread according to directions, after which
Mr. Hardesty seated himself near it and did ample justice to the simple
fare.

'You see, John,' said the old gentleman, when his appetite was somewhat
assuaged, 'it's all on account of that old, ugly, and infernal Peggy
Sidebottom. Here's hoping she may--may never drown her sorrows in the
flowing bowl!'

The grocer drank this toast with infinite gusto and replenished his glass.

'Well, Sir, as I was about saying, I went there last night to spend an
hour in a little sociable chat, and was about taking leave----' At this
point the speaker was interrupted by several violent raps at the door.

'Who's that?' inquired Mr. Hardesty, draining his glass.

'It's me,' said a voice from without.

'What do you want?' said Mr. Hardesty.

'Nothin'; what do _you_ want?'

'Who the d----l are you?' said the grocer, in a voice of thunder.

'Dick!' replied the voice.

'Dick what?'

'Dick Sidebottom!'

'What do you want here?