The old lawyer's face was a study, and he took out his handkerchief and blew quite a blast. "My beloved wife," he said, "I am quite willing to forego a good many things, but my glass of sherry with my dinner, and my glass of port afterwards, are little matters which have grown so customary that--" "Now, I'm sure, Hampton," began the old lady. "Yes, my love, and so am I," he said decisively. "Gertrude, my dear, if you will give Denton the keys, I'll go myself, and get the wine, and-- Bless me, what a howl!" The dog, which had been silent for hours, suddenly sent forth one of its long, low, mournful cries, which seemed to fill the place with the doleful sound. Mrs Denton shook her head, and gazed inquiringly at the old lawyer, but beyond looking upon the cry as a temporary nuisance, whose effect only lasted the length of the sound, it seemed to make not the slightest impression upon him. Gertrude led the way to the study, and, opening the glass door of the cabinet, took from the little drawer the cellar keys; everyone connected with the important parts of the house having, for many years past, had its resting-place in one of those drawers. "Are you coming, too?" said Mr Hampton, smiling. "Oh, yes," replied Gertrude; "I used often to go with dear uncle and carry the basket when I was quite a little child. I know the different bins well, and can show you which port and which sherry he used to get out for you and Dr Lawrence." "Yes, and splendid wines they were," said the old lawyer, smiling. "No, no, Gertie, my dear, you must not cut off my glass of wine." "I have the basket and a light, sir," said the old housekeeper, appearing at the door. "Thank you, Denton. You need not come. I'll carry--" "The light," said the old lawyer, smiling. "Give me the basket, Mrs Denton. Now then, Gertie, my dear; if a stranger came and saw me now, he'd say: `What a shabby-looking old butler they have at The Mynns.'" Gertrude took the candle and led the way to the cellar door, which the old lawyer opened, and the girl went first. Then the second door was opened, and they went on over the sawdust-covered floor, inhaling the mingled odour of damp wood, mildew, and wine. "Ha!" sighed the old man, as he looked to right and left at the stacked-up bottles: "It's a weakness and a vain longing, no doubt, Gertrude, my dear; but there is one thing at The Mynns I do look upon with envy, and that is the cellar. Bless my heart! is that dog going to howl like that all night?" "No, no," said Gertrude, with an involuntary shiver, as the low mournful cry penetrated to where they stood. "Poor Bruno! he has been sadly hurt. There, Mr Hampton, that is the sherry," she continued, pointing to a bin which had only been lowered about a fourth. "Then we'll have a bottle of you," said the old man, carefully taking one by the neck from its sawdust bed. "And that is the port," continued Gertrude, holding up the light, to point to the other side of the cellar.