"Hear, hear, hear, hear, hear!" cried the page-boy, a young gentleman who lived in a constant state of suppression, and consequently in his youthful vivacity was always seeking an opportunity to come to the surface. This appeared to him to be one. His chief had paid a compliment which had been cheered by the said chief's first-lieutenant Joseph, so Henry, the bearer of three rows of buttons, every one of which he longed to annex for purposes of play, cried "hear, hear, hear," as the footman's echo, and rapped loudly upon the table with the haft of his knife. A dead silence fell upon the occupants of the servants' hall, and Henry longed to take flight; but the butler fixed him as the Ancient Mariner did the wedding guest, and held him with his glittering eye. "There, I knowed you'd do it," whispered the footman. "You're always up to some of your manoeuvres." "Henry," said the butler in his most severe tones, and with the look upon his countenance that he generally reserved for Lord Barmouth, "I don't know where you were brought up, my good boy, and I don't want to know, but have the goodness to recollect that you are now in a nobleman's service, where, as there is no regular steward's room for the upper servants, you are allowed to take your meals with your superiors. I have before had occasion to complain of your behaviour, eating with your knife, breathing all over your plate, and sniffing at the table in a most disgusting way." "Hear, hear," said Joseph in a low voice, and the boy thought it additionally hard that he was to be chidden while his fellow-servant in livery went free. Mr Robbins bowed his head graciously to his underling's softly-breathed piece of adulation, and continued-- "Once for all, my good boy, I must request that if you do not wish to be sent into the knife place to partake of your meals, you will cease your low pothouse conduct, and behave yourself properly." The butler turned away with a dignified air, while Henry screwed up his face as if about to cry, bent down his head, and began to kick the footman's legs under the table--a playful piece of impudence that the lofty servitor did not resent, Master Henry the buttons knowing too much of things in general appertaining to the pantry; sundry stealings out at night when other people were in bed, and when returns were made through the area door, and from good fellowship, for though there was a vast difference in years and size, Joseph's brain was of much the same calibre as that of the boy. "Mrs Downes," said the butler, after clearing his voice with a good cough, "your sentiments do you credit. You have a heart of your own, and what is more, you are English." "I am, Mr Robbins, I am," said the lady addressed, and she wiped her eyes. "Furreners are furreners," continued the butler didactically; "but what I always will maintain is, that the English are so thoroughly English."