But the old gentleman has finished his dinner and his Madeira, and says:  ’Now, Jonathan, “thock” the Port!’—­his joke when matters have gone well:  meant to express the sound of the uncorking, probably.  The habit of making good jokes is rare, as you know:  old gentlemen have not yet attained to it:  nevertheless Jonathan enjoys this one, which has seen a generation in and out, for he knows its purport to be, ’My heart is open.’

And now is a great time with this old gentleman.  He sips, and in his eyes the world grows rosy, and he exchanges mute or monosyllable salutes here and there.  His habit is to avoid converse; but he will let a light remark season meditation.

He says to Jonathan:  ‘The bill for the month.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Jonathan replies.  ’Would you not prefer, sir, to have the items added on to the month ensuing?’

‘I asked you for the bill of the month,’ said the old gentleman, with an irritated voice and a twinkle in his eye.

Jonathan bowed; but his aspect betrayed perplexity, and that perplexity was soon shared by the landlady for Jonathan said, he was convinced the old gentleman intended to pay for sixteen days, and the landlady could not bring her hand to charge him for more than two.  Here was the dilemma foreseen by the old gentleman, and it added vastly to the flavour of the Port.

Pleasantly tickled, he sat gazing at his glass, and let the minutes fly.  He knew the part he would act in his little farce.  If charged for the whole month, he would peruse the bill deliberately, and perhaps cry out ‘Hulloa?’ and then snap at Jonathan for the interposition of a remark.  But if charged for two days, he would wish to be told whether they were demented, those people outside, and scornfully return the bill to Jonathan.

A slap on the shoulder, and a voice:  ‘Found you at last, Tom!’ violently shattered the excellent plot, and made the old gentleman start.  He beheld Mr. Andrew Cogglesby.

‘Drinking Port, Tom?’ said Mr. Andrew.  ’I ‘ll join you’:  and he sat down opposite to him, rubbing his hands and pushing back his hair.

Jonathan entering briskly with the bill, fell back a step, in alarm.  The old gentleman, whose inviolacy was thus rudely assailed, sat staring at the intruder, his mouth compressed, and three fingers round his glass, which it’ was doubtful whether he was not going to hurl at him.

‘Waiter!’ Mr. Andrew carelessly hailed, ’a pint of this Port, if you please.’

Jonathan sought the countenance of the old gentleman.

‘Do you hear, sir?’ cried the latter, turning his wrath on him.  ’Another pint!’ He added:  ‘Take back the bill’; and away went Jonathan to relate fresh marvels to his mistress.

Mr. Andrew then addressed the old gentleman in the most audacious manner.

’Astonished to see me here, Tom?  Dare say you are.  I knew you came somewhere in this neighbourhood, and, as I wanted to speak to you very particularly, and you wouldn’t be visible till Monday, why, I spied into two or three places, and here I am.’