CHAPTER XXV
MR. SPRAGGON'S EMBASSY TO JAWLEYFORD COURT
When Mr. Sponge returned, all dirtied and stained, from the chase, he foundhis host sitting in an arm-chair over the study fire, dressing-gowned andslippered, with a pocket-handkerchief tied about his head, shammingillness, preparatory to putting off Mr. Spraggon. To be sure, he playedrather a better knife and fork at dinner than is usual with persons withthat peculiar ailment; but Mr. Sponge, being very hungry, and well attendedto by the fair--moreover, not suspecting any ulterior design--just ate andjabbered away as usual, with the exception of omitting his sick papa-in-lawin the round of his observations. So the dinner passed over.
'Bring me a tumbler and some hot water and sugar,' said Mr. Jawleyford,pressing his head against his hand, as Spigot, having placed some bottleends on the table, and reduced the glare of light, was preparing to retire.'Bring me some hot water and sugar,' said he; 'and tell Harry he will haveto go over to Lord Scamperdale's, with a note, the first thing in themorning.'
The young ladies looked at each other, and then at mamma, who, seeing whatwas wanted, looked at papa, and asked, 'if he was going to ask LordScamperdale over?' Amelia, among her many 'presentiments,' had long enjoyedone that she was destined to be Lady Scamperdale.
'No--_over_--no,' snapped Jawleyford; 'what should put that in your head?'
'Oh, I thought as Mr. Sponge was here, you might think it a good time toask him.'
'His lordship knows he can come when he likes,' replied Jawleyford, adding,'it's to put that Mr. John Spraggon off, who thinks he may do the same.'
'Mr. Spraggon!' exclaimed both the young ladies. 'Mr. Spraggon!--whatshould set him here?'
'What, indeed?' asked Jawleyford.
'Poor man! I dare say there's no harm in him,' observed Mrs. Jawleyford,who was always ready for anybody.
'No good either,' replied Jawleyford--'at all events, we'll be just as wellwithout him. You know him, don't you?' added he, turning to Sponge--'greatcoarse man in spectacles.'
'Oh yes, I know him,' replied Sponge; 'a great ruffian he is, too,' addedhe.
'One ought to be in robust health to encounter such a man,' observedJawleyford, 'and have time to get a man or two of the same sort to meethim. _We_ can do nothing with such a man. I can't understand how hislordship puts up with such a fellow.'
'Finds him useful, I suppose,' observed Mr. Sponge.
Spigot presently appeared with a massive silver salver, bearing tumblers,sugar, lemon, nutmeg, and other implements of negus.
'Will you join me in a little wine-and-water?' asked Jawleyford, pointingto the apparatus and bottle ends, 'or will you have a fresh bottle?--plentyin the cellar,' added he, with a flourish of his hand, though he keptlooking steadfastly at the negus-tray.
'Oh--why--I'm afraid--I doubt--I think I should hardly be able to dojustice to a bottle single-handed,' replied Sponge. 'Then have negus,'said Jawleyford; 'you'll find it very refreshing; medical men recommend itafter violent exercise in preference to wine. But pray have wine if youprefer it.'
'Ah--well, I'll finish off with a little negus, perhaps,' replied Sponge,adding, 'meanwhile the ladies, I dare say, would like a little wine.'
'The ladies drink white wine--sherry,' rejoined Jawleyford, determined tomake a last effort to save his port. 'However, you can have a bottle ofport to yourself, you know.'
'Very well,' said Sponge.
'One condition I must attach,' said Mr. Jawleyford, 'which is, that you_finish_ the bottle. Don't let us have any waste, you know.'
'I'll do my best,' said Sponge, determined to have it; whereupon Mr.Jawleyford growled the word 'Port' to the butler, who had been witnessinghis master's efforts to direct attention to the negus. Thwarted in hisendeavour, Jawleyford's headache became worse, and the ladies, seeing howthings were going, beat a precipitate retreat, leaving our hero to hisfate.
'I'll leave a note on my writing-table when I go to bed,' observedJawleyford to Spigot, as the latter was retiring after depositing thebottle; 'and tell Harry to start with it early in the morning, so as to getto Woodmansterne about breakfast--nine o'clock, or so, at latest,' addedhe.
'Yes, sir,' replied Spigot, withdrawing with an air.
Sponge then wanted to narrate the adventures of the day; but, independentlyof Jawleyford's natural indifference for hunting, he was too much out ofhumour at being done out of his wine to lend a willing ear; and aftersundry 'hums,' 'indeeds,' 'sos,' &c., Sponge thought he might as well thinkthe run over to himself as trouble to put it into words, whereupon a longsilence ensued, interrupted only by the tinkling of Jawleyford's spoonagainst his glass, and the bumps of the decanter as Sponge helped himselfto his wine.
At length Jawleyford, having had as much negus as he wanted, excusedhimself from further attendence, under the plea of increasing illness, andretired to his study to concoct his letter to Jack.
At first he was puzzled how to address him. If he had been Jack Spraggon,living in old Mother Nipcheese's lodgings at Starfield, as he was when LordScamperdale took him by the hand, he would have addressed him as 'DearSir,' or perhaps in the third person, 'Mr. Jawleyford presents hiscompliments to Mr. Spraggon,' &c.; but, as my lord's right-hand man, Jackcarried a certain weight, and commanded a certain influence, that he wouldnever have acquired of himself.
Jawleyford spoilt three sheets of cream-laid satin-wove note-paper (crestedand ciphered) before he pleased himself with a beginning. First he had it'Dear Sir,' which he thought looked too stiff; then he had it 'My dearSir,' which he thought looked too loving; next he had it 'Dear Spraggon,'which he considered as too familiar; and then he tried 'Dear Mr. Spraggon,'which he thought would do. Thus he wrote:
'DEAR MR. SPRAGGON,--
'I am sorry to be obliged to put you off; but since I came in from hunting I have been attacked with influenza, which will incapacitate me from the enjoyment of society at least for two or three days. I therefore think the kindest thing I can do is to write to put you off; and, in the hopes of seeing both you and my lord at no distant day.
'I remain, dear sir, yours sincerely,
'CHARLES JAMES JAWLEYFORD,
'_Jawleyford Court._
'TO JOHN SPRAGGON, ESQ.,
&c. &c. &c.'
This he sealed with the great seal of Jawleyford Court--a coat of armscontaining innumerable quarterings and heraldic devices. Having thenrefreshed his memory by looking through a bundle of bills, and selected themost threatening of the lawyers' letters to answer the next day, heproceeded to keep up the delusion of sickness, by retiring to sleep in hisdressing-room. Our readers will now have the kindness to accompany us toLord Scamperdale's: time, the morning after the foregoing. 'Love me, lovemy dog,' being a favourite saying of his lordship's, he fed himself, hisfriends, and his hounds, on the same meal. Jack and he were busy with twogreat basins full of porridge, which his lordship diluted with milk, whileJack stirred his up with hot dripping, when the put-off note arrived. Hislordship was still in a complete suit of the great backgammon-board-lookingred-and-yellow Stunner tartan: but as Jack was going from home, he had gothimself into a pair of his lordship's yellow-ochre leathers and newtop-boots, while he wore the Stunner jacket and waistcoat to save hislordship's Sunday green cutaway with metal buttons, and canary-colouredwaistcoat. His lordship did not eat his porridge with his usual appetite,for he had had a disturbed night, Sponge having appeared to him in hisdreams in all sorts of forms and predicaments; now jumping a-top ofhim--now upsetting Jack--now riding over Frostyface--now crashing among hishounds; and he awoke, fully determined to get rid of him by fair means orfoul. Buying his horses did not seem so good a speculation as blowing hiscredit at Jawleyford Court, for, independently of disliking to part withhis cash, his lordship remembered that there were other horses to get, andhe should only be giving Sponge the means of purchasing them. The more,however, he thought of the Jawleyford project, the more satisfied he wasthat it would do; and Jack and he were in
a sort of rehearsal, wherein hislordship personated Jawleyford, and was showing Jack (who was only a clumsydiplomatist) how to draw up to the subject of Sponge's pecuniarydeficiencies, when the dirty old butler came with Jawleyford's note.
'What's here?' exclaimed his lordship, fearing from its smartness, that itwas from a lady. 'What's here?' repeated he, as he inspected the direction.'Oh, it's for _you_!' exclaimed he, chucking it over to Jack, considerablyrelieved by the discovery.
'_Me!_' replied Jack. 'Who can be writing to me?' said he, squinting hiseyes inside out at the seal. He opened it: 'Jawleyford Court,' read he.'Who the deuce can be writing to me from Jawleyford Court when I'm goingthere?'
'A put-off, for a guinea!' exclaimed his lordship.
'Hope so,' muttered Jack.
'Hope _not_,' replied his lordship.
'It is!' exclaimed Jack, reading, 'Dear Mr. Spraggon,' and so on.
'The humbug!' muttered Lord Scamperdale, adding, 'I'll be bound he's got nomore influenza than I have.'
'Well,' observed Jack, sweeping a red cotton handkerchief, with which hehad been protecting his leathers, off into his pocket, 'there's an end ofthat.'
'Don't go so quick,' replied his lordship, ladling in the porridge.
'Quick!' retorted Jack; 'why, what can you do?'
'_Do!_ why, _go_ to be sure,' replied his lordship.
'How can I go,' asked Jack, 'when the sinner's written to put me off?'
'Nicely,' replied his lordship, 'nicely. I'll just send word back by theservant that you had started before the note arrived, but that you shallhave it as soon as you return; and you just cast up there as if nothing hadhappened.' So saying, his lordship took hold of the whipcord-pull and gavethe bell a peal.
'There's no beating you,' observed Jack.
Bags now made his appearance again.
'Is the servant here that brought this note?' asked his lordship, holdingit up.
'Yes, _me_ lord,' replied Bags.
'Then tell him to tell his master, with my compliments, that Mr. Spraggonhad set off for Jawleyford Court before it came, but that he shall have itas soon as he returns--you understand?'
'Yes, _me_ lord,' replied Bags, looking at Jack supping up the fatporridge, and wondering how the lie would go down with Harry, who was thendiscussing his master's merits and a horn of small beer with the lad whowas going to drive Jack.
Jawleyford Court was twenty miles from Woodmansterne as the crow flies, andany distance anybody liked to call it by the road. The road, indeed, wouldseem to have been set out with a view of getting as many hills and aslittle level ground over which a traveller could make play as possible; andwhere it did not lead over the tops of the highest hills, it wound roundtheir bases, in such little, vexatious, up-and-down, wavy dips ascompletely to do away with all chance of expedition. The route was notalong one continuous trust, but here over a bit of turnpike and there overa bit of turnpike, with ever and anon long interregnums of township roads,repaired in the usual primitive style with mud and soft field-stones, thatturned up like flitches of bacon. A man would travel from London to Exeterby rail in as short a time, and with far greater ease, than he would drivefrom Lord Scamperdale's to Jawleyford Court. His lordship being aware ofthis fact, and thinking, moreover, it was no use trashing a good horse oversuch roads, had desired Frostyface to put an old spavined grey mare, thathe had bought for the kennel, into the dog-cart, and out of which, hislordship thought, if he could get a day's work or two, she would come allthe cheaper to the boiler.
'That's a good-shaped beast,' observed his lordship, as she now camehitching round to the door; 'I really think she would make a cover hack.'
'Sooner you ride her than me,' replied Jack, seeing his lordship was comingthe dealer over him--praising the shape when he could say nothing for theaction.
'Well, but she'll take you to Jawleyford Court as quick as the best ofthem,' rejoined his lordship, adding, 'the roads are wretched, and Jaw'sstables are a disgrace to humanity--might as well put a horse in a cellar.'
'Well,' observed Jack, retiring from the parlour window to his little denalong the passage, to put the finishing touch to his toilet--the greencutaway and buff waistcoat, which he further set off with a black satinstock--'Well,' said he, 'needs must when a certain gentleman drives.'
He presently reappeared full fig, rubbing a fine new eight-and-sixpennyflat-brimmed hat round and round with a substantial puce-coloured bandana.'Now for the specs!' exclaimed he, with the gaiety of a man in hisSunday's best, bound on a holiday trip. 'Now for the silver specs!'repeated he.
'Ah, true,' replied his lordship; 'I'd forgot the specs.' (He hadn't, onlyhe thought his silver-mounted ones would be safer in his keeping than inJack's.) 'I'd forgot the specs. However, never mind, you shall have these,'said he, taking his tortoise-shell-rimmed ones off his nose and handingthem to Jack.
MR. SPRAGGON'S EMBASSY TO JAWLEYFORD COURT]
'You promised me the silver ones,' observed our friend Jack, who wanted tobe smart.
'Did I?' replied his lordship; 'I declare I'd forgot. Ah yes, I believe Idid,' added he, with an air of sudden enlightenment--'the pair upstairs;but how the deuce to get at them I don't know, for the key of the Indiancabinet is locked in the old oak press in the still-room, and the key ofthe still-room is locked away in the linen-press in the green lumber-roomat the top of the house, and the key of the green lumber-room is in adrawer at the bottom of the wardrobe in the Star-Chamber, and the--'
'Ah, well; never mind,' grunted Jack, interrupting the labyrinth of lies.'I dare say these will do--I dare say these will do,' putting them on;adding, 'Now, if you'll lend me a shawl for my neck, and a mackintosh, myname shall be _Walker_.'
'Better make it _Trotter_,' replied his lordship, 'considering the distanceyou have to go.'
'Good,' said Jack, mounting and driving away.
'It will be a blessing if we get there,' observed Jack to the liveriedstable-lad, as the old bag of bones of a mare went hitching and limpingaway.
'Oh, she can go when she's warm,' replied the lad, taking her across theears with the point of the whip. The wheels followed merrily over thesound, hard road through the park, and the gentle though almostimperceptible fall of the ground giving an impetus to the vehicle, theybowled away as if they had four of the soundest, freshest legs in the worldbefore them, instead of nothing but a belly-band between them and eternity.
When, however, they cleared the noble lodge and got upon the unscraped mudof the Deepdebt turnpike, the pace soon slackened, and, instead of the gigrunning away with the old mare, she was fairly brought to her collar. Beinga game one, however, she struggled on with a trot, till at length, turningup the deeply spurlinged, clayey bottomed cross-road between Rookgate andClamley, it was all she could do to drag the gig through the holding mire.Bump, bump, jolt, jolt, creak, creak, went the vehicle. Jack now diving hiselbow into the lad's ribs, the lad now diving his into Jack's; both nowthreatening to go over on the same side, and again both nearly chucked onto the old mare's quarters. A sharp, cutting sleet, driving pins andneedles directly in their faces, further disconcerted our travellers. Jackfelt acutely for his new eight-and-sixpenny hat, it being the only articleof dress he had on of his own.
Long and tedious as was the road, weak and jaded as was the mare, and longas Jack stopped at Starfield, he yet reached Jawleyford Court before themessenger Harry.
As our friend Jawleyford was stamping about his study anathematizing aletter he had received from the solicitor to the directors of the Doembrownand Sinkall Railway, informing him that they were going to indulge in thewinding-up act, he chanced to look out of his window just as the contractedlimits of a winter's day were drawing the first folds of night's muslincurtain over the landscape, when he espied a gig drawn by a white horse,with a dot-and-go-one sort of action, hopping its way up the slumpeyavenue.
'That's Buggins the bailiff,' exclaimed he to himself, as the recollectionof an unanswered lawyer's letter flashed across his mind; and he was ju
stdarting off to the bell to warn Spigot not to admit any one, when the lad'scockade, standing in relief against the sky-line, caused him to pause andgaze again at the unwonted apparition.
'Who the deuce can it be?' asked he of himself, looking at his watch, andseeing it was a quarter-past four. 'It surely can't be my lord, or thatJack Spraggon coming after all?' added he, drawing out a telescope andopening a lancet-window.
'Spraggon, as I live!' exclaimed he, as he caught Jack's harsh, spectacledfeatures, and saw him titivating his hair and arranging his collar andstock as he approached.
'Well, that beats everything!' exclaimed Jawleyford, burning with rage ashe fastened the window again.
He stood for a few seconds transfixed to the spot, not knowing what onearth to do. At last resolution came to his aid, and, rushing upstairs tohis dressing-room, he quickly divested himself of his coat and waistcoat,and slipped on a dressing-gown and night-cap. He then stood, door in hand,listening for the arrival. He could just hear the gig grinding under theportico, and distinguish Jack's gruff voice saying to the servant from thetop of the steps, 'We'll start _directly_ after breakfast, mind.' Atremendous peal of the bell immediately followed, convulsing the wholehouse, for nobody had seen the vehicle approaching, and the establishmenthad fallen into the usual state of undress torpor that intervenes betweencalling hours and dinner-time.
The bell not being answered as quickly as Jack expected, he just opened thedoor himself; and when Spigot arrived, with such a force as he could raiseat the moment, Jack was in the act of 'peeling' himself, as he called it.
'What time do we dine?' asked he, with the air of a man with the entree.
'Seven o'clock, my lord--that's to say, sir--that's to say, my lord,' forSpigot really didn't know whether it was Jack or his master.
'Seven o'clock!' muttered Jack. 'What the deuce is the use of dinin' atsuch an hour as that in winter?'
Jack and my lord always dined as soon as they got home from hunting. Jack,having got himself out of his wraps, and run his bristles backwards with apocket-comb, was ready for presentation.
'What name shall I _e_nounce?' asked Mr. Spigot, fearful of committinghimself before the ladies.
'MISTER SPRAGGON, to be sure,' exclaimed Jack, thinking, becausehe knew who he was, that everybody else ought to know too.
Spigot then led the way to the music-room.
The peal at the bell had caused a suppressed commotion in the apartment.Buried in the luxurious depths of a well-cushioned low chair, Mr. Spongesat, _Mogg_ in hand, with a toe cocked up, now dipping leisurely into hiswork--now whispering something sweet into Amelia's ear, who sat with hercrochet-work at his side; while Emily played the piano, and Mrs. Jawleyfordkept in the background, in the discreet way mothers do when there is alittle business going on. The room was in that happy state of misty lightthat usually precedes the entrance of candles--a light that no one likes tocall darkness, lest their eyes might be supposed to be failing. It is aconvenient light, however, for a timid stranger, especially where there arenot many footstools set to trip him up--an exemption, we grieve to say, notaccorded to every one.
Though Mr. Spraggon was such a cool, impudent fellow with men, he was themost awkward, frightened wretch among ladies that ever was seen. Hisconversation consisted principally of coughing. 'Hem!'--cough--'yes,mum,'--hem--cough, cough--'the day,'--hem--cough--'mum,is'--hem--cough--'very,'--hem--cough--'mum, cold.' But we will introducehim to our family circle.
'MR. SPRAGGON!' exclaimed Spigot in a tone equal to the one inwhich Jack had announced himself in the entrance; and forthwith there wassuch a stir in the twilit apartment--such suppressed exclamations of:
'Mr. Spraggon!--Mr. Spraggon! What can bring him here?'
Our traveller's creaking boots and radiant leathers eclipsing the sombrehabiliments of Mr. Spigot, Mrs. Jawleyford quickly rose from her Pembrokewriting-desk, and proceeded to greet him.
'My daughters I think you know, Mr. Spraggon; also Mr. Sponge? Mr.Spraggon,' continued she, with a wave of her hand to where our hero wasensconced in his form, in case they should not have made each other'sspeaking acquaintance.
The young ladies rose, and curtsied prettily; while Mr. Sponge gave a sortof backward hitch of his head as he sat in his chair, as much as to say, 'Iknow as much of Mr. Spraggon as I want.'
'Tell your master Mr. Spraggon is here,' added Mrs. Jawleyford to Spigot,as that worthy was leaving the room. 'It's a cold day, Mr. Spraggon; won'tyou come near the fire?' continued Mrs. Jawleyford, addressing our friend,who had come to a full stop just under the chandelier in the centre of theroom. 'Hem--cough--hem--thank ye, mum,' muttered Jack. 'I'mnot--hem--cough--cold, thank ye, mum.' His face and hands were purplenotwithstanding.
'How is my Lord Scamperdale?' asked Amelia, who had a strong inclination tokeep in with all parties.
'Hem--cough--hem--my lord--that's to say, my lady--hem--cough--I mean tosay, my lord's pretty well, thank ye,' stuttered Jack.
'Is he coming?' asked Amelia.
'Hem--cough--hem--my lord's--hem--not well--cough--no--hem--I mean tosay--hem--cough--my lord's gone--hem--to dine--cough--hem--withhis--cough--friend Lord Bubbley Jock--hem--cough--I mean Barker--cough.'
Jack and Lord Scamperdale were so in the habit of calling his lordship bythis nickname, that Jack let it slip, or rather cough out, inadvertently.
In due time Spigot returned, with 'Master's compliments, and he was verysorry, but he was so unwell that he was quite unable to see any one.'
'Oh, dear!' exclaimed Mrs. Jawleyford.
'Poor pa!' lisped Amelia.
'What a pity!' observed Mr. Sponge.
'I must go and see him,' observed Mrs. Jawleyford, hurrying off.
'Hem--cough--hem--hope he's not much--hem--damaged?' observed Jack.
The old lady being thus got rid of, and Jawleyford disposed of--apparentlyfor the night--Mr. Spraggon felt more comfortable, and presently yielded toAmelia's entreaties to come near the fire and thaw himself. Spigot broughtcandles, and Mr. Sponge sat moodily in his chair, alternately studying_Mogg's Cab Fares_--'Old Bailey, Newgate Street, to or from the Adelphi,the Terrace, 1_s._ 6_d._; Admiralty, 2_s._'; and so on; and hazardingpromiscuous sidelong sort of observations, that might be taken up by Jackor not, as he liked. He seemed determined to pay Mr. Jack off for hisout-of-door impudence. Amelia, on the other hand, seemed desirous of makingup for her suitor's rudeness, and kept talking to Jack with an assiduitythat perfectly astonished her sister, who had always heard her speak ofhim with the utmost abhorrence.
Mrs. Jawleyford found her husband in a desperate state of excitement, hisinfluenza being greatly aggravated by Harry having returned very drunk,with the mare's knees desperately broken 'by a fall,' as Harry hiccupedout, or by his 'throwing her down,' as Jawleyford declared. Horses _fall_with their masters, servants _throw_ them down. What a happiness it is whenpeople can send their servants on errands by coaches or railways, insteadof being kept on the fidget all day, lest a fifty-pound horse should be theprice of a bodkin or a basket of fish!
Amelia's condescension quite turned Jack's head; and when he went upstairsto dress, he squinted at his lordship's best clothes, all neatly laid outfor him on the bed, with inward satisfaction at having brought them.
'Dash me!' said he, 'I really think that girl has a fancy for me.' Then heexamined himself minutely in the glass, brushed his whiskers up into acurve on his cheeks, the curves almost corresponding with the curve of hisspectacles above; then he gave his bristly, porcupine-shaped head abackward rub with a sort of thing like a scrubbing-brush. 'If I'd only hadthe silver specs,' thought he, 'I should have done.'
He then began to dress; an operation that, ever and anon was interrupted bythe outburst of volleys of smoke from the little spluttering, smoulderingfire in the little shabby room Jawleyford insisted on having him put into.
Jack tried all things--opening the window and shutting the door, shuttingthe window and opening the door; but finding that, instead of curing it, heonly p
roduced the different degrees of comparison--bad, worse, worst--he atlength shut both, and applied himself vigorously to dressing. He soon gotinto his stockings and pumps, also his black Saxony trousers; then came afine black laced fringe cravat, and the damson-coloured velvet waistcoatwith the cut-steel buttons.
'Dash me, but I look pretty well in this!' said he, eyeing first one sideand then the other as he buttoned it. He then stuck a chased and figuredfine gold brooch, with two pendant tassel-drops, set with turquoise andagates, that he had abstracted from his lordship's dressing-case, into his,or rather his lordship's finely worked shirt-front, and crowned the toiletwith his lordship's best new blue coat with velvet collar, silk facings,and the Flat Hat Hunt button--'a striding fox,' with the letters 'F.H.H.'below.
'Who shall say Mr. Spraggon's not a gentleman?' said he, as he perfumed oneof his lordship's fine coronetted cambric handkerchiefs withlavender-water. Scent, in Jack's opinion, was one of the criterions of agentleman.
Somehow Jack felt quite differently towards the house of Jawleyford; andthough he did not expect much pleasure in Mr. Sponge's company, he thought,nevertheless, that the ladies and he--Amelia and he at least--would get onvery well. Forgetting that he had come to eject Sponge on the score ofinsufficiency, he really began to think he might be a very desirable matchfor one of them himself.
'The Spraggons are a most respectable family,' said he, eyeing himself inthe glass. 'If not very handsome, at all events, very genteel,' added he,speaking of himself in particular. So saying, he adorned himself with hisspectacles and set off to explore his way downstairs. After divers mistakeshe at length found himself in the drawing-room, where the rest of the partybeing assembled, they presently proceeded to dinner.
Jack's amended costume did not produce any difference in Mr. Sponge'sbehaviour, who treated him with the utmost indifference. In truth, Spongehad rather a large balance against Jack for his impudence to him in thefield. Nevertheless, the fair Amelia continued her attentions, and talkedof hunting, occasionally diverging into observations on Lord Scamperdale'sfine riding and manly character and appearance, in the roundabout wayladies send their messages and compliments to their friends.
The dinner was flat. Jawleyford had stopped the champagne tap, though theneedle-case glasses stood to tantalize the party till about the time thatthe beverage ought to have been flowing, when Spigot took them off. Theflatness then became flatter. Nevertheless, Jack worked away in his usualcarnivorous style, and finished by paying his respects to all the sweets,jellies, and things in succession. He never got any of these, he said, at'home,' meaning at Lord Scamperdale's--Amelia thought, if she was 'mylady,' he would not get any meat there either.
ENTER MR. JACK SPRAGGON, FULL DRESS]
At length Jack finished; and having discussed cheese, porter, and redherrings, the cloth was drawn, and a hard-featured dessert, consistingprincipally of apples, followed. The wine having made a couple ofmelancholy circuits, the strained conversation about came to a full stop,and Spigot having considerately placed the little round table, as if tokeep the peace between them, the ladies left the male worthies to discusstheir port and sherry together. Jack, according to Woodmansterne fashion,unbuttoned his waistcoat, and stuck his legs out before him--an examplethat Mr. Sponge quickly followed, and each assumed an attitude that as goodas said 'I don't care twopence for you.' A dead silence then prevailed,interrupted only by the snap, snap, snapping of Jack's toothpick againsthis chair-edge, when he was not busy exploring his mouth with it. It seemedto be a match which should keep silence longest. Jack sat squinting hiseyes inside out at Sponge, while Sponge pretended to be occupied with thefire. The wine being with Sponge, and at length wanting some, he wasconstrained to make the first move, by passing it over to Jack, who helpedhimself to port and sherry simultaneously--a glass of sherry after dinner(in Jack's opinion) denoting a gentleman. Having smacked his lips overthat, he presently turned to the glass of port. He checked his hand inpassing it to his mouth, and bore the glass up to his nose.
'Corked, by Jove!' exclaimed he, setting the glass down on the table with athump of disgust.
It is curious what unexpected turns things sometimes take in the world, andhow completely whole trains of well-preconcerted plans are often turnedaside by mere accidents such as this. If it hadn't been for the corkedbottle of port, there is no saying but these two worthies would have held aQuakers' meeting without the 'spirit' moving either of them.
'Corked, by Jove!' exclaimed Jack.
'It is!' rejoined Sponge, smelling at his half-emptied glass.
'Better have another bottle,' observed Jack.
'Certainly,' replied Sponge, ringing the bell. 'Spigot, this wine'scorked,' observed Sponge, as old Pomposo entered the room.
'Is it?' said Spigot, with the most perfect innocence, though he knew itcame out of the corked batch. 'I'll bring another bottle,' added he,carrying it off as if he had a whole pipe at command, though in reality hehad but another out. This fortunately was less corked than the first; andJack having given an approving smack of his great thick lips, Mr. Spongetook it on his judgement, and gave a nod to Spigot, who forthwith took hisdeparture.
'Old trick that,' observed Jack, with a shake of the head, as Spigot shutthe door.
'Is it?' observed Mr. Sponge, taking up the observation, though in realityit was addressed to the fire.
'Noted for it,' replied Jack, squinting at the sideboard, though he wasstaring intently at Sponge to see how he took it.
'Well, I thought we had a bottle with a queer smatch the other night,'observed Sponge.
'Old Blossomnose corked half a dozen in succession one night,' repliedJack.
(He had corked three, but Jawleyford re-corked them, and Spigot was nowreproducing them to our friends.)
Although they had now got the ice broken, and entered into something like aconversation, it nevertheless went on very slowly, and they seemed to weigheach word before it was uttered. Jack, too, had time to run his peculiarsituation through his mind, and ponder on his mission from LordScamperdale--on his lordship's detestation of Mr. Sponge, his anxiety toget rid of him, his promised corner in his will, and his lordship's hintabout buying Sponge's horses if he could not get rid of him in any otherway.
Sponge, on his part, was thinking if there was any possibility of turningJack to account.
It may seem strange to the uninitiated that there should be prospect ofgain to a middle-man in the matter of a horse-deal, save in the legitimatetrade of auctioneers and commission stable-keepers; but we are sorry to saywe have known men calling themselves gentlemen, who have not thought itderogatory to accept a 'trifle' for their good offices in the cause. 'I canbuy cheaper than you,' they say, 'and we may as well divide the triflebetween us.'
That was Mr. Spraggon's principle, only that the word 'trifle' inadequatelyconveys his opinion on the point; Jack's notion being that a man wasentitled to 5_l._ per cent. as of right, and as much more as he could get.
It was not often that Jack got a 'bite' at my lord, which, perhaps, madehim think it the more incumbent on him not to miss an opportunity. Havingbeen told, of course he knew exactly the style of man he had to deal within Mr. Sponge--a style of men of whom there is never any difficulty inasking if they will sell their horses, price being the only consideration.They are, indeed, a sort of unlicensed horse-dealers, from whose presencefew hunts are wholly free. Mr. Spraggon thought if he could get Sponge tomake it worth his while to get my lord to buy his horses, the--whatever hemight get--would come in very comfortably to pay his Christmas bills.
By the time the bottle drew to a close, our friends were rather betterfriends, and seemed more inclined to fraternize. Jack had the advantage ofSponge, for he could stare, or rather squint, at him without Sponge knowingit. The pint of wine apiece--at least, as near a pint apiece as Spigotcould afford to let them have--somewhat strung Jack's nerves as well as hiseyes, and he began to show more of the pupils and less of the whites thanhe did. He buzzed the bottle with such a he
arty good will as settled thefate of another, which Sponge rang for as a matter of course. There was butthe rejected one, which, however, Spigot put into a different decanter, andbrought in with such an air as precluded either of them saying a word indisparagement of it.
'Where are the hounds next week?' asked Sponge, sipping away at it.
'Monday, Larkhall Hill; Tuesday, the cross-roads by Dallington Burn;Thursday, the Toll-bar at Whitburrow Green; Saturday, the kennels,' repliedJack.
'Good places?' asked Sponge.
'Monday's good,' replied Jack; 'draw Thorney Gorse--sure find; second draw,Barnlow Woods, and home by Loxley, Padmore, and so on.'
'What sort of a place is Tuesday?'
'Tuesday?' repeated Jack. 'Tuesday! Oh, that's the cross-roads. Capitalplace, unless the fox takes to Rumborrow Craigs, or gets into SeedywoodForest, when there's an end of it--at least, an end of everything exceptpulling one's horse's legs off in the stiff clayey rides. It's a long wayfrom here, though,' observed Jack.
'How far?' asked Sponge.
'Good twenty miles,' replied Jack. 'It's sixteen from us; it'll be a gooddeal more from here.'
'His lordship will lay out overnight, then?' observed Sponge.
'Not he,' replied Jack. 'Takes better care of his sixpences than that. Upin the dark, breakfast by candlelight, grope our ways to the stable, andblunder along the deep lanes, and through all the by-roads in thecountry--get there somehow or another.'
'Keen hand!' observed Sponge.
'Mad!' replied Jack.
They then paid their mutual respects to the port.
'He hunts there on Tuesdays,' observed Jack, setting down his glass, 'sothat he may have all Wednesday to get home in, and be sure of appearing onThursday. There's no saying where he may finish with a cross-roads' meet.'
By the time the worthies had finished the bottle, they had got a certainway into each other's confidence. The hint Lord Scamperdale had given aboutbuying Sponge's horses still occupied Jack's mind; and the more heconsidered the subject, and the worth of a corner in his lordship's will,the more sensible he became of the truth of the old adage, that 'a bird inthe hand is worth two in the bush.' 'My lord,' thought Jack, 'promisesfair, but it is _but_ a chance, and a remote one. He may live manyyears--as long, perhaps longer, than me. Indeed, he puts me on horses thatare anything but calculated to promote longevity. Then he may marry a wifewho may eject me, as some wives do eject their husbands' agreeable friends;or he may change his mind, and leave me nothing after all.'
All things considered, Jack came to the conclusion that he should not bedoing himself justice if he did not take advantage of such fairopportunities as chance placed in his way, and therefore he thought hemight as well be picking up a penny during his lordship's life, as bewaiting for a contingency that might never occur. Mr. Jawleyford'sindisposition preventing Jack making the announcement he was sent to do,made it incumbent on him, as he argued, to see what could be done with thealternative his lordship had proposed--namely, buying Sponge's horses. Atleast, Jack salved his conscience over with the old plea of duty; and hadcome to that conclusion as he again helped himself to the last glass in thebottle.
'Would you like a little claret?' asked Sponge, with all the hospitality ofa host.
'No, hang your claret!' replied Jack.
'A little brandy, perhaps?' suggested Sponge.
'I shouldn't mind a glass of brandy,' replied Jack, 'by way of a nightcap.'
Spigot, at this moment entering to announce tea and coffee, was interruptedin his oration by Sponge demanding some brandy.
'Sorry,' replied Spigot, pretending to be quite taken by surprise, 'verysorry, sir--but, sir--master, sir--bed, sir--disturb him, sir.'
'Oh, dash it, never mind that!' exclaimed Jack; 'tell him Mr.Sprag--Sprag--Spraggon' (the bottle of port beginning to make Jack ratherinarticulate)--'tell him Mr. Spraggon wants a little.'
'Dursn't disturb him, sir,' responded Spigot, with a shake of his head;'much as my place, sir, is worth, sir.'
'Haven't you a little drop in your pantry, think you?' asked Sponge.
'The _cook_ perhaps has,' replied Mr. Spigot, as if it was quite out of hisline.
'Well, go and ask her,' said Sponge; 'and bring some hot water and things,the same as we had last night, you know.'
Mr. Spigot retired, and presently returned, bearing a tray withthree-quarters of a bottle of brandy, which he impressed upon their mindswas the 'cook's _own_.'
'I dare say,' hiccuped Jack, holding the bottle up to the light.
'Hope she wasn't using it herself,' observed Sponge.
'Tell her we'll (hiccup) her health,' hiccuped Jack, pouring a liberalpotation into his tumbler.
'That'll be all you'll _do_, I dare say,' muttered Spigot to himself, as hesauntered back to his pantry.
'Does Jaw stand smoking?' asked Jack, as Spigot disappeared.
'Oh, I should think so,' replied Sponge; 'a friend like you, I'm sure,would be welcome'--Sponge thinking to indulge in a cigar, and lay the blameon Jack.
'Well, if you think so,' said Jack, pulling out his cigar-case, or ratherhis lordship's, and staggering to the chimney-piece for a match, thoughthere was a candle at his elbow, 'I'll have a pipe.'
'So'll I,' said Sponge, 'if you'll give me a cigar.' 'Much yours as mine,'replied Jack, handing him his lordship's richly embroidered case withcoronets and ciphers on either side, the gift of one of the many would-beLady Scamperdales.
'Want a light!' hiccuped Jack, who had now got a glow-worm end to his.
'Thanks,' said Sponge, availing himself of the friendly overture.
Our friends now whiffed and puffed away together--whiffing and puffingwhere whiffing and puffing had never been known before. The brandy began todisappear pretty quickly; it was better than the wine.
'That's a n--n--nice--ish horse of yours,' stammered Jack, as he mixedhimself a second tumbler.
'Which?' asked Sponge.
'The bur--bur--brown,' spluttered Jack.
'He is _that_,' replied Sponge; 'best horse in this country by far.'
'The che--che--chest--nut's not a ba--ba--bad un. I dare say,' observedJack.
'No, he's not,' replied Sponge; 'a deuced good un.'
'I know a man who's rayther s--s--s--sweet on the b--b--br--brown,'observed Jack, squinting frightfully.
Sponge sat silent for a few seconds, pretending to be wrapt up in his'sublime tobacco.'
'Is he a buyer, or just a jawer?' he asked at last.
'Oh, a _buyer_,' replied Jack.
'I'll _sell_,' said Sponge, with a strong emphasis on the sell.
'How much?' asked Jack, sobering with the excitement.
'Which?' asked Sponge.
'The brown,' rejoined Jack.
'Three hundred,' said Sponge; adding, 'I gave two for him.'
'Indeed!' said Jack.
A long pause then ensued. Jack thinking whether he should put the questionboldly as to what Sponge would give him for effecting a sale, or shouldbeat about the bush a little. At last he thought it would be most prudentto beat about the bush, and see if Sponge would make an offer.
'Well,' said Jack, 'I'll s--s--s--see what I can do.'
'That's a good fellow,' said Sponge; adding, 'I'll remember you if you do.'
'I dare say I can s--s--s--sell them both, for that matter,' observed Jack,encouraged by the promise.
'Well,' replied Sponge, 'I'll take the same for the chestnut; there isn'tthe toss-up of a halfpenny for choice between them.'
'Well,' said Jack,' we'll s--s--s--see them next week.'
'Just so,' said Sponge.
'You r--r--ride well up to the h--h--hounds,' continued Jack; 'and let hislordship s--s--see w--w--what they can do.'
'I will,' said Sponge, wishing he was at work.
'Never mind his rowing,' observed Jack; 'he c--c--can't help it.'
'Not I,' replied Sponge, puffing away at his cigar.
When men once begin to drink brandy-and-water (after win
e) there's an endof all note of time. Our friends--for we 'may now call them so,' sat sip,sip, sipping--mix, mix, mixing; now strengthening, now weakening, nowwarming, now flavouring, till they had not only finished the hot water buta large jug of cold, that graced the centre of the table between twofrosted tumblers, and had nearly got through the brandy too.
'May as well fi--fi--fin--nish the bottle,' observed Jack, holding it up tothe candle. 'Just a thi--thi--thim--bleful apiece,' added he, helpinghimself to about three-quarters of what there was.
'You've taken your share,' observed Sponge, as the bottle suspended paymentbefore he got half the quantity that Jack had.
'Sque--ee--eze it,' replied Jack, suiting the action to the word, andworking away at an exhausted lemon.
At length they finished.
'Well, I s'pose we may as well go and have some tea,' observed Jack.
'It's not announced yet,' said Sponge, 'but I make no doubt it will beready.'
So saying, the worthies rose, and, after sundry bumps and certainirregularities of course, they each succeeded in reaching the door. Thepassage lamp had died out and filled the corridor with its fragrance.Sponge, however, knew the way, and the darkness favored the adjustment ofcravats and the fingering of hair. Having got up a sort of drunken simper,Sponge opened the drawing-room door, expecting to find smiling ladies in ablaze of light. All, however, was darkness, save the expiring embers in thegrate. The tick, tick, tick, ticking of the clocks sounded wonderfullyclear.
'Gone to bed!' exclaimed Sponge.
'WHO-HOOP!' shrieked Jack, at the top of his voice.
'What's smatter, gentlemen?--What's smatter?' exclaimed Spigot rushing in,rubbing his eyes with one hand, and holding a block tin candlestick in theother.
'Nothin',' replied Jack, squinting his eyes inside out; adding, 'get me adevilled--' (hiccup).
'Don't know how to do them here, sir,' snapped Spigot.
'Devilled turkey's leg though you do, you rascal!' rejoined Jack, doublinghis fists and putting himself in posture.
'Beg pardon, sir,' replied Spigot, 'but the cook, sir, is gone to bed, sir.Do you know, sir, what o'clock it is, sir?'
'No,' replied Jack.
'What time is it?' asked Sponge.
'Twenty minutes to two,' replied Spigot, holding up a sort of pocketwarming-pan, which he called a watch.
'The deuce!' exclaimed Sponge.
'Who'd ha' thought it?' muttered Jack.
'Well, then, I suppose we may as well go to bed,' observed Sponge.
'S'pose so,' replied Jack; 'nothin' more to get.'
'Do you know your room?' asked Sponge.
'To be sure I do,' replied Jack; 'don't think I'm d--d--dr--drunk, do you?'
'Not likely,' rejoined Sponge.
Jack then commenced a very crab-like ascent of the stairs, whichfortunately were easy, or he would never have got up. Mr. Sponge, who stilloccupied the state apartments, took leave of Jack at his own door, and Jackwent bumping and blundering on in search of the branch passage leading tohis piggery. He found the green baize door that usually distinguishes theentrance to these secondary suites, and was presently lurching along itscontracted passage. As luck would have it, however, he got into his host'sdressing-room, where that worthy slept; and when Jawleyford jumped up inthe morning, as was his wont, to see what sort of a day it was, he trod onJack's face, who had fallen down in his clothes alongside of the bed, andJawleyford broke Jack's spectacles across the bridge of his nose.
'Rot it!' roared Jack, jumping up, 'don't ride over a fellow that way!'When, shaking himself to try whether any limbs were broken, he found he wasin his dress clothes instead of in the roomy garments of the Flat Hat Hunt.'Who are you? where am I? what the deuce do you mean by breaking my specs?'he exclaimed, squinting frightfully at his host.
'My dear sir,' exclaimed Mr. Jawleyford, from the top of his night-shirt,'I'm very sorry, but--'
'Hang your _buts_! you shouldn't ride so near a man!' exclaimed Jack,gathering up the fragments of his spectacles; when, recollecting himself,he finished by saying, 'Perhaps I'd better go to my own room.'
'Perhaps you had,' replied Mr. Jawleyford, advancing towards the door toshow him the way.
'Let me have a candle,' said Jack, preparing to follow.
'Candle, my dear fellow! why, it's broad daylight,' replied his host.
'Is it?' said Jack, apparently unconscious of the fact. 'What's the hour?'
'Five minutes to eight,' replied Jawleyford, looking at a timepiece.
When Jack got into his own den he threw himself into an old invalid chair,and sat rubbing the fractured spectacles together as if he thought theywould unite by friction, though in reality he was endeavouring to run theovernight's proceedings through his mind. The more he thought of Amelia'swinning ways, the more satisfied he was that he had made an impression, andthen the more vexed he was at having his spectacles broken: for though heconsidered himself very presentable without them, still he could not butfeel that they were a desirable addition. Then, too, he had a splittingheadache; and finding that breakfast was not till ten and might be a gooddeal later, all things considered, he determined to be off and follow uphis success under more favourable auspices. Considering that all theclothes he had with him were his lordship's, he thought it immaterial whichhe went home in, so to save trouble he just wrapped himself up in hismackintosh and travelled in the dress ones he had on.
It was fortunate for Mr. Sponge that he went, for, when Jawleyford smeltthe indignity that had been offered to his dining-room, he broke out insuch a torrent of indignation as would have been extremely unpleasant ifthere had not been some one to lay the blame on. Indeed, he was notparticularly gracious to Mr. Sponge as it was; but that arose as much fromcertain dark hints that had worked their way from the servants' hall into'my lady's chamber' as to our friend's pecuniary resources and prospects.Jawleyford began to suspect that Sponge might not be quite the great'catch' he was represented.
Beyond, however, putting a few searching questions--which Mr. Spongeskilfully parried--advising his daughters to be cautious, lessening thenumber of lights, and lowering the scale of his entertainments generally,Mr. Jawleyford did not take any decided step in the matter. Mr. Spraggoncomforted Lord Scamperdale with the assurance that Amelia had no idea ofSponge, who he made no doubt would very soon be out of the country--and hislordship went to church and prayed most devoutly for him to go.