I want you to look your best this evening, you know, and to do credit to us all.

And now, I think we have settled everything, so we will be going back to tea." That evening, the squire was sitting by himself in the great dining room, occasionally sipping the glass of port, which John Petersham had poured out before he left the room.

The curtains were drawn, and the candles lighted; for it was late in September, and the evenings were closing in fast; and the squire was puzzling over John Petersham's behaviour at dinner.
Although the squire was not apt to observe closely what was passing around him, he had been struck with the old butler's demeanour.

That something was wrong with him was clear.

Usually he was the most quiet and methodical of servants, but he had blundered several times in the service.