Clerivault knocked thrice on the sideboard with a rolling-pin, and the company assembled to its dinner in the great hall. The meal consisted of two courses, the items of which, for any who may care to consult them, figured as follows:-- First Course. Calves’ foot soup Poached eggs with hop-tops Roasted hare and forcemeat balls Fried hasty pudding Mushrooms done in batter Black-caps (or applejohns--baked apples served in custard). Second Course. Fried lampreys A mess of cocks’ combs Roasted crane Spiced vegetables with eggs A great pasty of boar’s head Radishes Flavons, or open cheesecakes --with copious canary, malmsey, and flagons of strong October ale to wash all down. The host, bareheaded, muttered for grace a brief _Benedictus Benedicat_, to which all, save Grenville, removed their hats--to put them on again to dine in. ‘I doff to no Latin,’ said the Sheriff, with a scowl. Bagott moistened his unsteady lips with his tongue. He looked ill and agitated. The unexpectedness of this visit, with the moral of watchfulness and suspicion it implied, had sent his nerves by the board. He was the mere delapidated ruin of his former self, bloated, coarsened, discoloured. He could not control the twitching of his features or the aphasia which muddled his speech. The signs of his infirmity were too patent on him for any to mistake the cause. He only stared, hearing the rebuke, as if at a loss for its provocation. But Raleigh came to the rescue. ‘Unless to _caput aperio_,’ said he gaily. ‘For my part I would not be so churlish to an old friend.’ ‘No friend of mine,’ growled the other. ‘I always hated it--a Popish crafty language. I was no College ape’ (Raleigh had been at Oriel) ‘to learn to mince and lisp in tricked-up phrases. A dead language, forsooth! Ay, and vampires they that feed on it. Give me full-blooded English for my share.’ ‘To bless the food, withal? An you spoke your fullest, we’d see it blasted rather. I’ll say _Benedicat_ with all my heart, and see no more craft in it than a short cut to the joint. Come, Dick: a pledge to our host in better grace.’