Droop now noticed for the first time that behind the casks there was a snug recess containing a table and two well-worn benches, evidently intended for the entertainment of guests desirous of a _tete-a-tete_. Thither he at once directed his steps, and seating himself upon one of the benches, looked about him for a bell. He could hear the three men at the long table whispering busily, and could see that they had their heads together. The fat man stirred in his chair with a rolling motion. "Drawer!" he called. "Here!" cried the drawer, bustling up to the fire. "A second tankard of that same sack, boy. Bustle, bustle!" "I must first to my mistress, sir," was the reply. "Nothing for credit, sir, save by permission." "A pox upon thee!" growled the thirsty man. "On thee and thy mistress, too!" Muttering and shaking his head, the ponderous guest stretched forth his legs, closed his eyes, and composed himself for a nap. The drawer tipped a wink to the grinning pot-boy on the cask, and then bustled over to Droop's table, which he proceeded to wipe vigorously with his apron. "Did you call, sir?" he said. "Yes," said Copernicus. "Bring me a schooner of light lager." The drawer's busy apron hand stopped at once and its owner leaned hard on the table. "What command gave you, sir?" he said. "Marry--a schooner of lager--light, forsooth!" Droop repeated. "Cry you mercy, sir," said the drawer, straightening up, "this be the Boar's Head Tavern, sir. What may your worship require by way of food and drink?" "These old-timers beat all creation for ignorance," muttered Droop. Then, looking up into the man's face, he called for one drink after another, watching hopefully for some sign of answering intelligence. "Give me a Scotch high-ball. No? Then a gin sling. Hot Tom and Jerry, then. Marry, an egg flip, i' faith! Ain't got 'em? Get me a brandy smash--a sherry cobbler--a gin rickey--rock and rye--a whisky sour--a mint julep! What! Nothin'? What in thunder _do_ ye sell, then?" The drawer scratched his head, and then grinned suddenly and gave vent to a dry laugh. "Well said! Well said, master! The jest is a merry one--call me a Jew else!" Then, sobering as briskly as he had taken to laughing: "Will you have a cup of sack, master, to settle the stomach after fasting--or a drop of Canary or Xeres or a mug of ale, perchance----" "That's right, by my halidom!" Droop broke in. "Bring me some ale, waiter." The drawer whisked away and returned in a few moments with a huge power tankard topped with a snowy foam. "That's the stuff!" said Droop, smacking his lips. He half-emptied the beaker, and then, turning to the drawer: "Can you tell me," he said, "if I can find a man by the name of Hart here--Sir Percevall Hart?" "Sir Percevall," said the drawer, in an undertone. "Why, there's your man, master. The fat knight snoring by yon fire."