“A good supper will set all to rights,” insinuated Kneebone. “But be prudent, my angel.” “Never fear,” replied the lady. “I'm prudence personified. You might trust me with the Chevalier himself,--I'd never betray him. But why didn't you let me know they were coming. I'd have got something nice. As it is, we've only a couple of ducks--and they were intended for you. Winny, my love, come with me. I shall want you.--Sorry to quit your lord--worships, I mean,--I don't know what I mean,” she added, a little confused, and dropping a profound curtsey to the disguised noblemen, each of whom replied by a bow, worthy, in her opinion, of a prince of the blood at the least,--“but I've a few necessary orders to give below.” “Don't mind us, Ma'am,” said Mr. Jackson: “ha! ha!” “Not in the least, Ma'am,” echoed Mr. Smith: “ho! ho!” “How condescending!” thought Mrs. Wood. “Not proud in the least, I declare. Well, I'd no idea,” she continued, pursuing her ruminations as she left the room, “that people of quality laughed so. But it's French manners, I suppose.” CHAPTER V. HAWK AND BUZZARD. Mrs. Wood's anxiety to please her distinguished guests speedily displayed itself in a very plentiful, if not very dainty repast. To the duckling, peas, and other delicacies, intended for Mr. Kneebone's special consumption, she added a few impromptu dishes, tossed off in her best style; such as lamb chops, broiled kidneys, fried ham and eggs, and toasted cheese. Side by side with the cheese (its never-failing accompaniment, in all seasons, at the carpenter's board) came a tankard of swig, and a toast. Besides these there was a warm gooseberry-tart, and a cold pigeon pie--the latter capacious enough, even allowing for its due complement of steak, to contain the whole produce of a dovecot; a couple of lobsters and the best part of a salmon swimming in a sea of vinegar, and shaded by a forest of fennel. While the cloth was laid, the host and Thames descended to the cellar, whence they returned, laden with a number of flasks of the same form, and apparently destined to the same use as those depicted in Hogarth's delectable print--the Modern Midnight Conversation.