‘Ah, my lord!’ exclaimed Jawleyford, throwing out his hand and shrugging his shoulders as if in despair, ‘you tantalise me -- you do indeed. You should have come, or said nothing about it. You distress me -- you do indeed.’

‘Well, I’m wrong, perhaps,’ replied his lordship, patting Jawleyford encouragingly on the shoulder; ‘but however, I’ll tell you what,’ said he, ‘Jack here’s not engaged, and he shall come to you.’

‘Most happy to see Mr -- ha -- hum -- haw -- Jack -- that’s to say, Mr Spraggon,’ replied Jawleyford, bowing very low, and laying his hand on his heart, as if quite overpowered at the idea of the honour.

‘Then, that’s bargain, Jack,’ said his lordship, looking knowingly round at his much disconcerted friend; ‘you dine and stay all night at Jawleyford Court tomorrow! and mind,’ added he, ‘make yourself ’greeable to the girls -- ladies that’s to say.’

‘Couldn’t your lordship arrange it so that we might have the pleasure of seeing you both on some future day?’ asked Jawleyford, anxious to avert the Jack calamity. ‘Say next week,’ continued he; ‘or suppose you meet at the Court?’

‘Ha -- he -- hum. Meet at the Court,’ mumbled his lordship -- ‘meet at the Court -- ha -- he -- ha -- hum -- no; -- got no foxes.’

‘Plenty of foxes, I assure you, my lord!’ exclaimed Jawleyford. ‘Plenty of foxes!’ repeated he.

‘We never find them, then, somehow,’ observed his lordship, drily; ‘at least none but those three-legged beggars in the laurels at the back of the stables.’

‘Ah! that will be the fault of the hounds,’ replied Jawleyford; ‘they don’t take sufficient time to draw -- run through the covers too quickly.’

‘Fault of the hounds be hanged!’ exclaimed Jack, who was the champion of the pack generally. ‘There’s not a more patient, painstaking pack in the world than his lordship’s.’

‘Ah -- well -- ah -- never mind that,’ replied his lordship, ‘Jaw and you can settle that point over your wine tomorrow; meanwhile, if your friend Mr What’s-his-name here, ’ll get his horse,’ continued his lordship, addressing himself to Jawleyford, but looking at Sponge, who was still on the piebald, ‘we’ll throw off.’

‘Thank you, my lord,’ replied Sponge; ‘but I’ll mount at the cover side.’ Sponge not being inclined to let the Flat Hat Hunt field see the difference of opinion that occasionally existed between the gallant brown and himself.

‘As you please,’ rejoined his lordship, ‘as you please,’ jerking his head at Frostyface, who forthwith gave the office to the hounds; whereupon all was commotion. Away the cavalcade went, and in less than five minutes the late bustling village resumed its wonted quiet; the old man on sticks, two crones gossiping at a door, a rag-or-anything-else-gatherer going about with a donkey, and a parcel of dirty children tumbling about on the green, being all that remained on the scene. All the able-bodied men had followed the hounds. Why the hounds had ever climbed the long hill seemed a mystery, seeing that they returned the way they came.

Jawleyford, though sore disconcerted at having ‘Jack’ pawned upon him, stuck to my lord, and rode on his right with the air of a general. He felt he was doing his duty as an Englishman in thus patronising the hounds -- encouraging a manly spirit, of independence, and promoting our unrivalled breed of horses. The post-boy trot at which hounds travel, to be sure, is not well adapted for dignity; but Jawleyford flourished and vapoured as well as he could under the circumstances, and considering they were going down hill. Lord Scamperdale rode along, laughing in his sleeve at the idea of the pleasant evening Jack and Jawleyford would have together, occasionally complimenting Jawleyford on the cut and condition of his horse, and