‘Is the servant here that brought this note?’ asked his lordship, holding it up.

‘Yes, me lord,’ replied Bags.

‘Then tell him to tell his master, with my compliments, that Mr Spraggon had set off for Jawleyford Court before it came, but that he shall have it as soon as he returns -- you understand?’

‘Yes, me lord,’ replied Bags, looking at Jack supping up the fat porridge, and wondering how the lie would go down with Harry, who was then discussing his master’s merits and a horn of small beer with the lad who was going to drive Jack.

Jawleyford Court was twenty miles from Woodmansterne as the crow flies, and any distance anybody liked to call it by the road. The road, indeed would seem to have been set out with a view of getting as many hills and as little level ground over which a traveller could make play as possible; and where it did not lead over the tops of the highest hills, it wound round their bases, in such little, vexatious, up- and-down, wavy dips as completely to do away with all chance of expedition. The route was not along one continuous trust, but here over a bit of turnpike and there over a bit of turnpike, with ever and anon long interregnums of township roads, repaired in the usual primitive style with mud and soft field-stones, that turned up like flitches of bacon. A man would travel from London to Exeter by rail in as short a time, and with far greater ease, than he would drive from Lord Scamperdale’s to Jawleyford Court. His lordship being aware of this fact, and thinking, moreover, it was no use trashing a good horse over such roads, had desired Frostyface to put an old spavined grey mare, that he had bought for the kennel, into the dog-cart, and out of which, his lordship thought, if he could get a day’s work or two, she would come all the cheaper to the boiler.

‘That’s a good-shaped beast,’ observed his lordship, as she now came hitching 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 coming the dealer over him -- praising the shape when he could say nothing for the action.

‘Well, but she’ll take you to Jawleyford Court as quick as the best of them,’ rejoined his lordship; adding, ‘the roads are wretched, and Jaw’s stables 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 den along the passage, to put the finishing touch to his toilet -- the green cut-away and buff waistcoat, which he further set off with a black satin stock -- ‘Well,’ said he, ‘needs must when a certain gentleman drives.’

He presently reappeared full fig, rubbing a fine new eight-and sixpenny flat-brimmed hat round and round with a substantial puce-coloured bandana.

‘Now for the specs!’ exclaimed he, with the gaiety of a man in his Sunday’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, only he thought his silver-mounted ones would be safer in his keeping than in Jack’s.) ‘I’d forgot the specs. However, never mind, you shall have these,’ said he, taking his tortoiseshell-rimmed ones off his nose and handing them to Jack.

‘You promised me the silver ones,’ observed our friend Jack, who wanted to be smart.

‘Did I?’ replied his lordship; ‘I declare I’d forgot. Ah, yes, I believe I did,’ 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 Indian cabinet is locked in the old oak press in the still-room, and the key of the still-room is locked away