The style was perhaps better than the repast:  still they had turtle-soup (Shell and Tortoise, to be sure, but still turtle-soup); while the wines were supplied by the well-known firm of ‘Wintle & Co.’  Jawleyford sank where he got it, and pretended that it had been ‘ages’ in his cellar:  ’he really had such a stock that he thought he should never get through it’—­to wit, two dozen old port at 36_s._ a dozen, and one dozen at 48_s._; two dozen pale sherry at 36_s._, and one dozen brown ditto at 48_s._; three bottles of Bucellas, of the ‘finest quality imported,’ at 38_s._ a dozen; Lisbon ‘rich and dry,’ at 32_s._; and some marvellous creaming champagne at 48_s._, in which they were indulging when he made the declaration:  ’don’t wait of me, my dear Mr. Sponge!’ exclaimed Jawleyford, holding up a long needle-case of a glass with the Jawleyford crests emblazoned about; ’don’t wait of me, pray,’ repeated he, as Spigot finished dribbling the froth into Sponge’s glass; and Jawleyford, with a flourishing bow and waive of his empty needle-case, drank Mr. Sponge’s very good health, adding, ’I’m extremely happy to see you at Jawleyford Court.’

It was then Jawleyford’s turn to have a little froth; and having sucked it up with the air of a man drinking nectar, he set down his glass with a shake of the head, saying: 

‘There’s no such wine as that to be got now-a-days.’

‘Capital wine!—­Excellent!’ exclaimed Sponge, who was a better judge of ale than of champagne.  ‘Pray, where might you get it?’

‘Impossible to say!—­Impossible to say!’ replied Jawleyford, throwing up his hands with a shake, and shrugging his shoulders.  ’I have such a stock of wine as is really quite ridiculous.’

‘Quite ridiculous,’ thought Spigot, who, by the aid of a false key, had been through the cellar.

Except the ‘Shell and Tortoise’ and ‘Wintle,’ the estate supplied the repast.  The carp was out of the home-pond; the tench, or whatever it was, was out of the mill-pond; the mutton was from the farm; the carrot-and-turnip-and-beet-bedaubed stewed beef was from ditto; while the garden supplied the vegetables that luxuriated in the massive silver side-dishes.  Watson’s gun furnished the old hare and partridges that opened the ball of the second course; and tarts, jellies, preserves, and custards made their usual appearances.  Some first-growth Chateaux Margaux ‘Wintle,’ again at 66_s._, in very richly cut decanters accompanied the old 36_s._ port; and apples, pears, nuts, figs, preserved fruits, occupied the splendid green-and-gold dessert set.  Everything, of course, was handed about—­an ingenious way of tormenting a person that has ‘dined.’  The ladies sat long, Mrs. Jawleyford taking three glasses of port (when she could get it); and it was a quarter to eight when they rose from the table.