Milsom took it into his head to make a formal return
for the hospitalities he had received on that occasion.
It happened that the evening chosen for this humble but comfortable
entertainment was the evening after Captain Copplestone's departure
from the castle.
The supper was well cooked, and neatly placed on the table. A foaming
tankard of ale flanked the large dish of hissing steaks; and the
gentlemen from the castle set to work with a good will to do justice to
Mr. Maunders's entertainment.
When the table had been cleared of all except a bowl of punch and a
tray of glasses, it is scarcely a matter for wonder if the quartette
had grown rather noisy, with a tendency to become still louder in its
mirth with every glass of Mr. Milsom's excellent compound.
They were enjoying themselves as much as it is in the power of human
nature to enjoy itself; they had proposed all manner of toasts, and had
drunk them with cheers, and the mirth was at its loudest when the clock
of the village church boomed out solemnly upon the stillness of night,
and tolled the hour of ten.
The three men staggered hastily to their feet.
"We must be off, Maunders, old fellow," said the coachman, with a
certain thickness of utterance.
"Right you are, Mat," answered Stephen. "You've had quite enough of
that 'ere liquor, and so have we all. Good night, Mr.
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