Jack then commenced a very crab-like ascent of the stairs, which fortunately were easy, or he would never have got up. Mr Sponge, who still occupied the state apartments, took leave of Jack at his own door, and Jack went bumping and blundering on in search of the branch passage leading to his piggery. He found the green baize door that usually distinguishes the entrance to these secondary suites, and was presently lurching along its contracted passage. As luck would have it, however, he got into his host’s dressing-room, where that worthy slept; and when Jawleyford jumped up in the morning, as was his wont, to see what sort of a day it was, he trod on Jack’s face, who had fallen down in his clothes alongside of the bed, and Jawleyford 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 was in 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 nightshirt, ‘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 say, ‘Perhaps I’d better go to my own room.’

‘Perhaps you had,’ replied Mr Jawleyford, advancing towards the door to show 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 they would unite by friction, though in reality he was endeavouring to run the overnight’s proceedings through his mind. The more he thought of Amelia’s winning ways, the more satisfied he was that he had made an impression, and then the more vexed he was at having his spectacles broken: for though he considered himself very presentable without them, still he could not but feel that they were a desirable addition. Then, too he had a splitting headache; and finding that breakfast was not till ten and might be a good deal later, all things considered, he determined to be off and follow up his success under more favourable auspices. Considering that all the clothes he had with him were his lordship’s, he thought it immaterial which he went home in, so to save trouble he just wrapped himself up in his mackintosh and travelled in the dress ones he had on.

It was fortunate for Mr Sponge that he went, for, when Jawleyford smelt the indignity that had been offered to his dining-room, he broke out in such a torrent of indignation as would have been extremely unpleasant if there had not been someone to lay the blame on. Indeed, he was not particularly gracious to Mr Sponge as it was; but that arose, as much from certain 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 Sponge skilfully parried -- advising his daughters to be cautious, lessening the number of lights, and lowering the scale of his entertainments generally, Mr Jawleyford did not take any decided step in the matter. Mr Spraggon comforted Lord Scamperdale with the assurance that Amelia had no idea of Sponge, who he made no doubt would very soon be out of the country -- and his lordship went to church and prayed most devoutly for him to go.