"Well, if you don't, I do; and I dare say you've remarked that in your
account for last year--"

"Yes; that's enough of that. Here's to your health, Christian
Frederick," broke in Uncle Richard, hastily. He was always nervous when
his brother began about business.

"That's a great big cask."

"Yes, it is a very big one."

And the two old gentlemen held out their lights towards it, and each of
them thought, "I am glad my brother does not know that the cask is
nearly empty;" for it returned a most unpromising sound when it was
struck, and the patch of moisture beneath it showed that it had
evidently been leaking for many years.

At the end of the bottle, they got up and clinked their glasses
together. They then took each his bottle of Burgundy for dinner, hung
their coats on their arms, and went up into the daylight. It was
strictly forbidden for any one to meet them when they came out of the
cellar, and Miss Cordsen had trouble enough to keep the way clear. They
presented a most extraordinary spectacle, especially the precise
Christian Frederick, coming up red and beaming, in their shirtsleeves,
covered with dust, and each carrying his bottle and his light.

An hour later they met at the dinner-table--Richard, trim and smart as
usual, with his conventional diplomatic smile; the Consul precise,
haughty, and correct to the very tips of his fingers.