The three men staggered hastily to their feet.
"We must be off, Maunders, old fellow," said the coachman, with a certain thickness of utterance.
"Right you are, Mat," answered Stephen. "You've had quite enough of that 'ere liquor, and so have we all. Good night, Mr. Maunders, and thank you kindly for a jolly evening. Come, Jim. Come, Mat, old boy—off we go!"
"No, no," cried Mr. Maunders, the hospitable; "I'm not a-going to let Matthew Brook leave my house at ten o'clock when he can stay as long as he likes. You and he beat me at whist, but I mean to be even with him at cribbage. We'll have a friendly hand and a friendly glass, and I'll see him as far as the gates afterwards. You'll let him in, Plumpton, come when he will, I know. If he can stay over his time at the other house, he can stay over his time with me. Come, Brook, you won't say no, will you, to a friend?" asked Milsom.
Matthew Brook looked at Mr. Milsom, and at his fellow-servants, in a stupid half-drunken manner, and rubbed his big head thoughtfully with his big hand.
"I'm blest if I know what to do," he said; "I've promised Stephen I wouldn't stay out after time again—and—"
"Not as a rule, perhaps," answered Mr. Milsom; "but once in a way can't make any difference, I'm sure, and Stephen Plumpton is the last to be ill-natured."
"That I am," replied the good-tempered footman. "Stay, if you like to stay, Mat. I'll leave my door unfastened, and welcome."
On this, the two other men took a friendly leave of their host and departed, walking through the village street with legs that were not by any means too steady.
There was a triumphant grin upon Mr. Milsom's face as he shut the door on these two departing guests.