Mr Richard Pellet was back at Norwood Station at about the same time as
his stepson reached the terminus at Shoreditch, where he caught the
express, and ran back to Cambridge, to find a letter which made
considerable alterations in his arrangements, of which more after a
while. As for Richard Pellet, he had all the cares upon him that night
of a great dinner-party, for Mrs Richard, in happy ignorance of all that
might work to her mortification, had, in obedience to Richard's
commands, issued her cards to a select circle of city magnates, of
course including their wives and daughters--men who matched well with
Richard Pellet, some of them worth a plum--golden drop, no doubt.
The stout butler and the men in coach-lace were hard-worked that
evening, for the best dinner-service was in use, the choice plate, too,
had been taken out of green baize bags, from green baize-lined boxes;
the three extra dark-hued leaves had been fitted into the dining-table;
the large epergne was filled with flowers and waxlights. Bokes the
butler had turned eighteen damask dinner-napkins into as many
cocked-hats, all crimp, crease, and pucker; prepared his salad--a point
which he never yielded--and decanted his wines. Two men in white had
been down all day from Gunter's, driving cook and kitchenmaid out of
their senses, as they declared again and again that there was nothing in
the kitchen fit for use, and that it was quite impossible for a decent
dinner to be prepared. They vowed that the great prize kitchener was a
sham; the patent hot-plate good for nothing; the charcoal stove and warm
cupboard, abominations both; stew-pans, saucepans, and kitchen fittings
generally, a set of rubbish; and ended by asking how they were to be
expected to work without stock. There would have been no dinner if Mrs
Richard, upon hearing the twentieth complaint, had not taken the butler
into her counsel, and urged him to allay the disorder. The consequence
was that Mr Bokes went into his pantry, and from thence into his
kitchen, which was hotter, morally, than ever. Then he mysteriously
signalled with his thumb to the two men in white, and shortly after
installed them in a couple of chairs in the cool shades of the pantry.
As if performing some mysterious ceremony, Mr Bokes made the cork of a
port-wine bottle "skreel" as he tortured it by forcing in a screw, and
then brought it forth with a loud "fop," holding it out, wet and
blood-stained--grape--for the senior Gunterian to sniff at, and
afterwards to the lieutenant, when the following solemn dialogue took
place:--
"Twenty!" whispered Mr Bokes, solemnly.
"Twenty!" exclaimed the Gunterians, in duet.
"Twenty!" repeated Mr Bokes, with additional solemnity; and then he
added, "Five bin."
Speech ceased for a few moments, while Mr Bokes armed his guests with
large claret-glasses, afterwards tenderly pouring forth the deep-hued
generous mixture.
"Seeing as you're both gentlemen," said Mr Bokes, confidentially, "as
goes into the best of society, I thought I should like to hear your
opinions."
"But you'll join us?" said Gunter One to the speaker.
"Well, raylly, gentlemen," hesitated Mr Bokes.
Gunter One set down his glass and pursed up his mouth, looking at Gunter
Two, who also set down his untasted glass, folded his arms, and looked
fiercely at the butler.
"Well, raylly, gentlemen," said Mr Bokes, "if that's it, I suppose I
must;" and helping himself to a glass, the three took wine together,
after the most approved fashion, but perhaps with an additional dignity.
Gunter One thought it a tolerably fruity wine.
Gunter Two considered that it wanted more age.
"Well, I don't know," said Gunter One; "for a light-bodied tawny wine,
it's fairish."
"I think I'll take another glass," Mr Bokes, said Gunter Two, Gunter One
following his example; and the butler filled their glasses, not
forgetting his own; after which there was a discussion upon crust, and
bees-wing, and vine-disease, when Mr Bokes dropt a hint about the finest
glass of Madeira to be had in or out of London being likely to be on the
way when the dinner was over.
The conversation was stopped by the ringing of a bell, and as James,
footman, and Thomas, under-butler, were busy over other matters, Mr
Bokes went to respond to the summons.
Five minutes had elapsed before the butler returned, in time to find the
bottle perfectly empty, and the Gunters smacking their lips over the
last drops in their glasses; when, no more being forthcoming, the
gentlemen in white returned to the kitchen, sufficiently good-humoured
for Number One to smile affably upon the cook, and Number Two to address
the kitchenmaid as "My dear," in asking for a wooden spoon.
The full resources of the Norwood establishment were brought out that
night, and Jared Pellet of Duplex Street would have looked less dreamy,
and rubbed his eyes, as he turned from the duet he was having with
Monsieur Canau, with Janet, little Pine, and Patty for audience, could
he have seen the dinner served in a dining-room that sparkled with
candles, plate, and glass. Even the most ill-disposed of the guests
acknowledged the repast to be a success, that is, as far as appearances
went. There was only one failure--the smash made by one of the men of a
dish of meringues, leaving a blank place upon the table. Wines, ices,
attendance, all were good. There could not be a doubt of Mr Richard
Pellet's wealth, nor of the high position he occupied, not only in the
city, but in the pleasant suburban district of Norwood.
The ladies had risen, and, amidst a pleasant rustling of silks, swept
up-stairs; the gentlemen had drawn their chairs nearer together for the
convenient passage of port-decanter and claret-jug, when Mr Bokes, the
Norwood Pharaoh's chief butler, whispered to his master that he was
wanted.
"Indeed," said Mr Richard Pellet, loudly, for he was delivering his
opinion upon City affairs, "unless a similar crisis should arise, I give
you my word of honour that it must be--Now, Bokes," in an undertone,
"what is it? What the deuce do you mean--at such a time? Who wants
me?"
"Tall, stout woman, sir."
"Lady?"
"No, not lady--woman, sir. Says she must see you, sir."
"Must!" exclaimed Richard, scowling.
"Yes, sir, and will."
"Tell her to call to-morrow; I'm engaged."