and sent a message to the cellars, desiring to see the report.

The Cellarman's appearance, the moment he put his head in at the door of
his master's private room, suggested that something very extraordinary
must have happened that morning. There was an approach to alacrity in
Joey Ladle's movements! There was something which actually simulated
cheerfulness in Joey Ladle's face

"What's the matter?" asked Vendale. "Anything wrong?"

"I should wish to mention one thing," answered Joey. "Young Mr. Vendale,
I have never set myself up for a prophet."

"Who ever said you did?"

"No prophet, as far as I've heard I tell of that profession," proceeded
Joey, "ever lived principally underground. No prophet, whatever else he
might take in at the pores, ever took in wine from morning to night, for
a number of years together. When I said to young Master Wilding,
respecting his changing the name of the firm, that one of these days he
might find he'd changed the luck of the firm--did I put myself forward as
a prophet? No, I didn't. Has what I said to him come true? Yes, it
has. In the time of Pebbleson Nephew, Young Mr. Vendale, no such thing
was ever known as a mistake made in a consignment delivered at these
doors. There's a mistake been made now. Please to remark that it
happened before Miss Margaret came here. For which reason it don't go
against what I've said respecting Miss Margaret singing round the luck.
Read that, sir," concluded Joey, pointing attention to a special passage
in the report, with a forefinger which appeared to be in process of
taking in through the pores nothing more remarkable than dirt. "It's