longer are we to be waiters? We shall die of old age before we get our victuals!"
The waiter smiled apologetically. "Yes, sir!" said he. "Coming now, sir." And at this very moment there was borne into the room a Gargantuan pudding in a great bucket of a basin, which being placed on a three-legged stool was forthwith attacked ferociously by the white-clothed, white-capped carver. We watched the process—as did every one present—with an interest not entirely gluttonous, for it added a pleasant touch to the picturesque old room, with its sanded floor, its homely, pew-like boxes, its high-backed settles and the friendly portrait of the "great lexicographer" that beamed down on us from the wall.
"This is a very different affair from your great, glittering modern restaurant," Mr. Marchmont remarked.
"It is indeed," said Blackmore, "and if this is the way in which our ancestors lived, it would seem that they had a better idea of comfort than we have."
There was a short pause, during which Mr. Marchmont glared hungrily at the pudding; then Thorndyke said:
"So you refused to listen to reason, Mr. Blackmore?"
"Yes. You see, Mr. Marchmont and his partner had gone into the matter and decided that there was nothing to be done. Then I happened to mention the affair to Reuben Hornby, and he urged me to ask your advice on the case."
