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Page 14
"You'll have to creep in after them, Christian Frederick. I am too
stout."
"All right," answered his brother, taking off his watch and heavy bunch
of seals. And the old gentleman crept into the bin with the utmost care.
"Now I've got one," he cried.
"Take two while you are about it."
"Yes; but you will have to take hold of my legs and pull me out."
"_Avec plaisir_!" answered Richard. "But won't you have a drop of
Burgundy before you come out?"
There must have been some joke hidden in the question, for the Consul
began to laugh; but before long he stammered out, "I am choking, Dick;
will you pull me out, you fiend?"
The joke about the Burgundy was as follows. Once when the young Consul
had crept in among the bottles, to look for something very particular,
he managed to knock his head against one which lay in the rack above so
hard that it broke, and the whole bottle of Burgundy ran down his neck.
Every time any allusion was made to this mishap, a meaning smile passed
between the brothers, and Richard was even so careless as sometimes to
allude to it when others were present. For instance, if they were
sitting at dinner, and the conversation turned upon red wines, he would
say, "Well, my brother has his own peculiar way of drinking Burgundy;"
and then would follow a series of mysterious allusions and laughter
between the two, which usually ended in a fit of coughing.
The young people had several times tried to get at this joke about the
Burgundy, but always in vain. Miss Cordsen, who had been obliged that
day to get a clean shirt for the Consul, was the only one in the secret;
but Miss Cordsen could hold her tongue about more serious matters than
that.
At last the Consul came out again, laughing and sputtering, his
waistcoat covered with dust, and his hair full of cobwebs. When they had
had a good laugh over their joke--it was well the walls were so
thick--Richard, on whom the duty always devolved, uncorked the first
bottle with the greatest care and skill.
"H'm! h'm!" said the Consul, "that is a curious bouquet."
"I declare, the wine has gone off," said Richard, spluttering.
"Bah! right you are, Dick," said Christian Frederick, spluttering in his
turn.
Uncle Richard opened the second bottle, put his nose to it, and said
approvingly, "Madeira!" and in a moment the golden wine was sparkling in
the old-fashioned Dutch glasses.
"Ah! that's quite another thing," said the young Consul, taking his
usual place astride of the old rocking-horse.
The rocking-horse was a relic of their childhood. "They used to make
everything more solid in those days," said Christian Frederick; and when
some years previously the horse had been found amongst a lot of rubbish,
the Consul had had it brought down to the cellar. For many a long year
he had sat on this horse, drinking the old wine out of the same old
glasses with his brother, who sat in the rickety armchair, which cracked
under his weight, laughing and telling anecdotes of their boyhood. He
never got such wine anywhere else, and no room ever appeared so
brilliant in his eyes as the low-vaulted cellar with its two smoky
lights.
"I declare, it's a shame," said the young Consul, "that you have never
had your half of that cask of port. However, I will send you some wine
out to Bratvold one of these days, so that you may have some, till we
can get it tapped."
"But you are always sending me wine, Christian Frederick. I am sure I
have had my half, and more too, long ago."
"Nonsense, Dick! I declare, I believe you keep a wine account."
"No, I am sure I don't."
"Well, if you don't, I do; and I dare say you've remarked that in your
account for last year--"
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