‘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 crossroads. Capital place, unless the fox takes to Rumborrow Craigs, or gets into Seedeywood Forest, when there’s an end of it -- at least an end of everything except pulling one’s horse’s legs off in the stiff clayey rides. It’s a long way from here, though,’ observed Jack.

‘How far?’ asked Sponge.

‘Good twenty miles,’ replied Jack. ‘It’s sixteen from us; it’ll be a good deal more from here.’

‘His lordship will lay out overnight, then?’ observed Sponge.

‘Not he,’ replied Jack. ‘Takes better care of his sixpences than that. Up in the dark, breakfast by candlelight, grope our ways to the stable, and blunder along the deep lanes, and through all the by-roads in the country -- 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, ‘so that he may have all Wednesday to get home in, and be sure of appearing on Thursday. There’s no saying where he may finish with a crossroads’ meet.’

By the time the worthies had finished the bottle, they had got a certain way into each other’s confidence. The hint Lord Scamperdale had given about buying Sponge’s horses still occupied Jack’s mind; and the more he considered 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 in the hand is worth two in the bush.’ ‘My Lord,’ thought Jack, ‘promises fair, but it is but a chance, and a remote one. He may live many years -- as long, perhaps longer, than me. Indeed, he puts me on horses that are anything but calculated to promote longevity. Then he may marry a wife who 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 be doing himself justice if he did not take advantage of such fair opportunities as chance placed in his way, and therefore he thought he might as well be picking up a penny during his lordship’s life, as be waiting for a contingency that might never occur. Mr Jawleyford’s indisposition 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 the alternative his lordship had proposed -- namely, buying Sponge’s horses. At least, Jack salved his conscience over with the old plea of duty; and had come to that conclusion as he again helped himself to the last glass in the bottle.

‘Would you like a little claret?’ asked Sponge with all the hospitality of a 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.’