Now, Drum, you do just what I tell you; and mind, not a word to any one.

It will be the last coin you ever see of mine, either now or in all my life, remember, if you let my mamma ever hear of it.

You slip down to the larder and get me a cold grouse, and a cold partridge, and two of the hearth-stone cakes, and a pat of butter, and a pinch of salt, and put them in my army knapsack Aunt Philippa gave me; also a knife and fork and plate; and--let me see--what had I better have to drink ?" "Well, Sir, if I might offer an opinion, a pint bottle of dry port, or your grandfather's Madeira." "Young ladies--young gentlemen I mean, of course--never take strong wines in the middle of the day.

Bucellas, Drum--Bucellas is the proper thing.

And when you have got it all together, turn the old cat into the larder, and get away cleverly by your little door, and put my knapsack in the old oak-tree, the one that was struck by lightning.