The punch being very nice, we sat there drinking it and talking, until it was almost nine o'clock.

"Getting near gun-fire," said Wemmick then, as he laid down his pipe; "it's the Aged's treat." Proceeding into the Castle again, we found the Aged heating the poker, with expectant eyes, as a preliminary to the performance of this great nightly ceremony.

Wemmick stood with his watch in his hand until the moment was come for him to take the red-hot poker from the Aged, and repair to the battery.

He took it, and went out, and presently the Stinger went off with a Bang that shook the crazy little box of a cottage as if it must fall to pieces, and made every glass and teacup in it ring.

Upon this, the Aged--who I believe would have been blown out of his arm-chair but for holding on by the elbows--cried out exultingly, "He's fired! I heerd him!" and I nodded at the old gentleman until it is no figure of speech to declare that I absolutely could not see him.
The interval between that time and supper Wemmick devoted to showing me his collection of curiosities.