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of a looking-glass, and a flower-pot with a perishing little rose geranium in it, which he called a century-plant, and said it had not bloomed now for upwards of two centuries — given to him by the late Lord Palmer-ston — (been offered a prodigious sum for it) — these were the contents of the room. Also a brass candle­stick and a part of a candle. Rogers lit the candle, and told me to sit down and make myself at home. He said he hoped I was thirsty, because he would sur­prise my palate with an article of champagne that sel­dom got into a commoner's system; or would I prefer sherry, or port? Said he had port in bottles that were swathed in stratified cobwebs, every stratum represent­ing a generation. And as for his cigars — well, I should judge of them myself. Then he put his head out at the door and called:
" Sackville !" No answer.
" Hi! — Sackville !" No answer.
" Now what the devil can have become of that butler? I never allow a servant to— Oh, confound that idiot, he's got the keys. Can't get into the other rooms without the keys."
(I was just wondering at his intrepidity in still keep­ing up the delusion of the champagne, and trying to imagine how he was going to get out of the difficulty.)
Now he stopped calling Sackville and began to call "Anglesy." But Anglesy didn't come. He said, " This is the second time that that equerry has been absent without leave. To-morrow I'll discharge him."
Now he began to whoop for " Thomas," but Thomas didn't answer. Then for " Theodore," but no Theo­dore replied.
" Well, I give it up," said Rogers. " The servants never expect me at this hour, and so they're all off on a lark. Might get along without the equerry and the