woollen-draper was no despicable trencherman in a general way; but his
feats with the knife and fork were child's sport compared with those of
Mr. Smith. The leg and wing of a duck were disposed of by this gentleman
in a twinkling; a brace of pigeons and a pound of steak followed with
equal celerity; and he had just begun to make a fierce assault upon the
eggs and ham. His appetite was perfectly Gargantuan. Nor must it be
imagined, that while he thus exercised his teeth, he neglected the
flagon. On the contrary, his glass was never idle, and finding it not
filled quite so frequently as he desired, he applied himself,
notwithstanding the expressive looks and muttered remonstrances of Mr.
Jackson, to the swig. The latter gentleman did full justice to the good
things before him; but he drank sparingly, and was visibly annoyed by
his companion's intemperance. As to Mr. Kneebone, what with flirting
with Mrs. Wood, carving for his friends, and pledging the carpenter, he
had his hands full. At this juncture, and just as a cuckoo-clock in the
corner struck sis, Jack Sheppard walked into the room, with the
packing-case under his arm.

"I was in the right, you see, father," observed Thames, smiling; "Jack
_has_ done his task."

"So I perceive," replied Wood.

"Where am I to take it to?" asked Sheppard.

"I told you that before," rejoined Wood, testily. "You must take it to
Sir Rowland Trenchard's in Southampton Fields. And, mind, it's for his
sister, Lady Trafford."

"Very well, Sir," replied Sheppard.