“Now ain’t this capital?” inquired that jolly personage, when the work of destruction had commenced.

“Capital!” said Mr. Winkle, who was carving a fowl on the box.

“Glass of wine?”

“With the greatest pleasure.”

“You’d better have a bottle to yourself up there, hadn’t you?”

“You’re very good.”

“Joe!”

“Yes, Sir.” (He wasn’t asleep this time, having just succeeded in abstracting a veal patty.)

“Bottle of wine to the gentleman on the box. Glad to see you, Sir.”