The stout butler and the men in coach-lace were hard-worked that evening, for the best dinner-service was in use, the choice plate, too, had been taken out of green baize bags, from green baize-lined boxes; the three extra dark-hued leaves had been fitted into the dining-table; the large epergne was filled with flowers and waxlights. Bokes the butler had turned eighteen damask dinner-napkins into as many cocked-hats, all crimp, crease, and pucker; prepared his salad--a point which he never yielded--and decanted his wines. Two men in white had been down all day from Gunter's, driving cook and kitchenmaid out of their senses, as they declared again and again that there was nothing in the kitchen fit for use, and that it was quite impossible for a decent dinner to be prepared. They vowed that the great prize kitchener was a sham; the patent hot-plate good for nothing; the charcoal stove and warm cupboard, abominations both; stew-pans, saucepans, and kitchen fittings generally, a set of rubbish; and ended by asking how they were to be expected to work without stock. There would have been no dinner if Mrs Richard, upon hearing the twentieth complaint, had not taken the butler into her counsel, and urged him to allay the disorder. The consequence was that Mr Bokes went into his pantry, and from thence into his kitchen, which was hotter, morally, than ever. Then he mysteriously signalled with his thumb to the two men in white, and shortly after installed them in a couple of chairs in the cool shades of the pantry. As if performing some mysterious ceremony, Mr Bokes made the cork of a port-wine bottle "skreel" as he tortured it by forcing in a screw, and then brought it forth with a loud "fop," holding it out, wet and blood-stained--grape--for the senior Gunterian to sniff at, and afterwards to the lieutenant, when the following solemn dialogue took place:-- "Twenty!" whispered Mr Bokes, solemnly. "Twenty!" exclaimed the Gunterians, in duet. "Twenty!" repeated Mr Bokes, with additional solemnity; and then he added, "Five bin." Speech ceased for a few moments, while Mr Bokes armed his guests with large claret-glasses, afterwards tenderly pouring forth the deep-hued generous mixture. "Seeing as you're both gentlemen," said Mr Bokes, confidentially, "as goes into the best of society, I thought I should like to hear your opinions." "But you'll join us?" said Gunter One to the speaker. "Well, raylly, gentlemen," hesitated Mr Bokes. Gunter One set down his glass and pursed up his mouth, looking at Gunter Two, who also set down his untasted glass, folded his arms, and looked fiercely at the butler. "Well, raylly, gentlemen," said Mr Bokes, "if that's it, I suppose I must;" and helping himself to a glass, the three took wine together, after the most approved fashion, but perhaps with an additional dignity. Gunter One thought it a tolerably fruity wine. Gunter Two considered that it wanted more age.