CHAPTER XXI
A COUNTRY DINNER-PARTY
'Well, what sport?' asked Jawleyford, as he encountered his exceedinglydirty friend crossing the entrance hall to his bedroom on his return fromhis day, or rather his non-day, with the 'Flat Hat Hunt.'
'Why, not much--that's to say, nothing particular--I mean, I've not hadany,' blurted Sponge.
'But you've had a run?' observed Jawleyford, pointing to his boots andbreeches, stained with the variation of each soil.
'Ah, I got most of that going to cover,' replied Sponge; 'country's awfullydeep, roads abominably dirty!' adding, 'I wish I'd taken your advice, andstayed at home.'
'I wish you had,' replied Jawleyford, 'you'd have had a most excellentrabbit-pie for luncheon. However, get changed, and we will hear all aboutit after.' So saying, Jawleyford waved an adieu, and Sponge stamped away inhis dirty water-logged boots.
'I'm afraid you are very wet, Mr. Sponge,' observed Amelia in the sweetesttone, with the most loving smile possible, as our friend, with three stepsat a time, bounded upstairs, and nearly butted her on the landing, as shewas on the point of coming down.
'I am that,' exclaimed Sponge, delighted at the greeting; 'I am that,'repeated he, slapping his much-stained cords; 'dirty, too,' added he,looking down at his nether man.
'Hadn't you better get changed as quick as possible?' asked Amelia, stillkeeping her position before him.
'Oh! all in good time,' replied Sponge, 'all in good time. The sight of youwarms me more than a fire would do'; adding, 'I declare you look quitebewitching, after all the roughings and tumblings about out of doors.'
'Oh! you've not had a fall, have you?' exclaimed Amelia, looking thepicture of despair; 'you've not had a fall, have you? Do send for thedoctor, and be bled.'
Just then a door along the passage to the left opened; and Amelia, knowingpretty well who it was, smiled and tripped away, leaving Sponge to be bledor not as he thought proper.
Our hero then made for his bedroom, where, having sucked off his adhesiveboots, and divested himself of the rest of his hunting attire, he wrappedhimself up in his grey flannel dressing-gown, and prepared for parboilinghis legs and feet, amid agreeable anticipations arising out of the recentinterview, and occasional references to his old friend _Mogg_, whenever hedid not see his way on the matrimonial road as clearly as he could wish.'She'll have me, that's certain,' observed he.
'Curse the water! how hot it is!' exclaimed he, catching his foot up out ofthe bath, into which he had incautiously plunged it without ascertainingthe temperature of the water. He then sluiced it with cold, and next had toadd a little more hot; at last he got it to his mind, and lighting a cigar,prepared for uninterrupted enjoyment.
'Gad!' said he, 'she's by no means a bad-looking girl' (whiff). 'Devilishgood-looking girl' (puff); 'good head and neck, and carries it well too'(puff)--'capital eye' (whiff), 'bright and clear' (puff); 'no cataractsthere. She's all good together' (whiff, puff, whiff). 'Nice size too,'continued he, 'and well set up (whiff, puff, whiff); 'straight as a dairymaid' (puff); 'plenty of substance--grand thing substance' (puff). 'Hate aweedy woman--fifteen two and a half--that's to say, five feet four's plentyof height for a woman' (puff). 'Height of a woman has nothing to do withher size' (whiff). 'Wish she hadn't run off (puff); 'would like to have hada little more talk with her' (whiff, puff). 'Women never look so well aswhen one comes in wet and dirty from hunting' (puff). He then sanksilently back in the easy-chair and whiffed and puffed all sorts offantastic clouds and columns and corkscrews at his leisure. The cigar beingfinished, and the water in the foot-bath beginning to get cool, he emptiedthe remainder of the hot into it, and lighting a fresh cigar, beganspeculating on how the match was to be accomplished.
The lady was safe, that was clear; he had nothing to do but 'pop.' That hewould do in the evening, or in the morning, or any time--a man living inthe house with a girl need never be in want of an opportunity. Thatpreliminary over, and the usual answer 'Ask papa' obtained, then came thequestion, how was the old boy to be managed?--for men with marriageabledaughters are to all intents and purposes 'old boys,' be their ages whatthey may.
He became lost in reflection. He sat with his eyes fixed on the Jawleyfordportrait above the mantelpiece, wondering whether he was the amiable,liberal, hearty, disinterested sort of man he appeared to be, indifferentabout money, and only wanting unexceptionable young men for his daughters;or if he was a worldly minded man, like some he had met, who, after givinghim every possible encouragement, sent him to the right-about like aservant. So Sponge smoked and thought, and thought and smoked, till thewater in the foot-bath again getting cold, and the shades of night drawingon, he at last started up like a man determined to awake himself, andpoking a match into the fire, lighted the candles on the toilet-table, andproceeded to adorn himself. Having again got himself into the killingtights and buckled pumps, with a fine flower-fronted shirt, ere he embarkedon the delicacies and difficulties of the starcher, he stirred the littlepittance of a fire, and, folding himself in his dressing-gown, endeavouredto prepare his mind for the calm consideration of all the minute bearingsof the question by a little more _Mogg_. In idea he transferred himself toLondon, now fancying himself standing at the end of Burlington Arcade,hailing a Fulham or Turnham Green 'bus; now wrangling with a conductor forcharging him sixpence when there was a pennant flapping at his nose withthe words "ALL THE WAY 3D." upon it; now folding the wooden doorsof a hansom cab in Oxford Street, calculating the extreme distance he couldgo for an eightpenny fare: until at last he fell into a downright vacantsort of reading, without rhyme or reason, just as one sometimes takes aread of a directory or a dictionary--"Conduit Street, George Street, to orfrom the Adelphi Terrace, Astley's Amphitheatre, Baker Street, King Street,Bryanston Square any part, Covent Garden Theatre, Foundling Hospital,Hatton Garden," and so on, till the thunder of the gong aroused him to arecollection of his duties. He then up and at his neckcloth.
"Ah, well," said he, reverting to his lady love, as he eyed himselfintently in the glass while performing the critical operation, "I'll justsound the old gentleman after dinner--one can do that sort of thing betterover one's wine, perhaps, than at any other time: looks less formal too,"added he, giving the cravat a knowing crease at the side; "and if itdoesn't seem to take, one can just pass it off as if it was done forsomebody else--some young gentleman at Laverick Wells, for instance."
So saying, he on with his white waistcoat, and crowned the conquering suitwith a blue coat and metal buttons. Returning his _Mogg_ to hisdressing-gown pocket, he blew out the candles and groped his way downstairsin the dark.
In passing the dining-room he looked in (to see if there were anychampaign-glasses set, we believe), when he saw that he should not have anopportunity of sounding his intended papa-in-law after dinner, for he foundthe table laid for twelve, and a great display of plate, linen, and china.
He then swaggered on to the drawing-room, which was in a blaze of light.The lively Emily had stolen a march on her sister, and had just entered,attired in a fine new pale yellow silk dress with a point-lace berthe andother adornments.
High words had ensued between the sisters as to the meanness of Amelia intrying to take her beau from her, especially after the airs Amelia hadgiven herself respecting Sponge; and a minute observer might have seen theslight tinge of red on Emily's eyelids denoting the usual issue of suchscenes. The result was, that each determined to do the best she could forherself; and free trade being proclaimed, Emily proceeded to dress with allexpedition, calculating that, as Mr. Sponge had come in wet, he would, verylikely dress at once and appear in the drawing-room in good time. Nor wasshe out in her reckoning, for she had hardly enjoyed an approving glance inthe mirror ere our hero came swaggering in, twitching his arms as if hehadn't got his wristbands adjusted, and working his legs as if they didn'tbelong to him.
"Ah, my dear Miss Emley!" exclaimed he, advancing gaily towards her withextended hand, which she took with all the pleasure in the world; a
dding,"and how have you been?"
"Oh, pretty well, thank you," replied she, looking as though she would havesaid, "As well as I can be without you."
Sponge, though a consummate judge of a horse, and all the minutiaeconnected with them, was still rather green in the matter of woman; andhaving settled in his own mind that Amelia should be his choice, heconcluded that Emily knew all about it, and was working on her sister'saccount, instead of doing the agreeable for herself. And there it is whereelder sisters have such an advantage over younger ones. They are alwaysshown, or contrive to show themselves, first; and if a man once makes uphis mind that the elder one will do, there is an end of the matter; and itis neither a deeper shade or two of blue, nor a brighter tinge of brown,nor a little smaller foot, nor a more elegant waist, that will make himchange for a younger sister. The younger ones immediately become sisters inthe men's minds, and retire, or are retired, from the field--"scratched,"as Sponge would say.
Amelia, however, was not going to give Emily a chance; for, having dressedwith all the expedition compatible with an attractive toilet--alavender-coloured satin with broad black lace flounces, and some heavyjewellery on her well-turned arms, she came sidling in so gently as almostto catch Emily in the act of playing the agreeable. Turning the sidle intoa stately sail, with a haughty sort of sneer and toss of the head to hersister, as much as to say, 'What are you doing with my man?'--a sneer thatsuddenly changed into a sweet smile as her eye encountered Sponge's--shejust motioned him off to a sofa, where she commenced a _sotto voce_conversation in the engaged-couple style.
MR. SPONGE AND THE MISSES JAWLEYFORD]
The plot then began to thicken. First came Jawleyford, in a terrible stew.
'Well, this is too bad!' exclaimed he, stamping and flourishing a scentednote, with a crest and initials at the top. 'This is too bad,' repeatedhe; 'people accepting invitations, and then crying off at the last moment.'
'Who is it can't come, papa--the Foozles?' asked Emily.
'No--Foozles be hanged,' sneered Jawleyford; 'they always come--_theBlossomnoses!_' replied he, with an emphasis.
'The Blossomnoses!' exclaimed both girls, clasping their hands and lookingup at the ceiling.
'What, all of them?' asked Emily.
'All of them,' rejoined Jawleyford.
'Why, that's four,' observed Emily.
'To be sure it is,' replied Jawleyford; 'five, if you count them byappetites; for old Blossom always eats and drinks as much as two people.'
'What excuse do they give?' asked Amelia.
'Carriage-horse taken suddenly ill,' replied Jawleyford; 'as if that's anyexcuse when there are post-horses within half a dozen miles.'
'He wouldn't have been stopped hunting for want of a horse, I dare say,'observed Amelia.
'I dare say it's all a lie,' observed Jawleyford; adding, 'however, theinvitation shall go for a dinner, all the same.'
The denunciation was interrupted by the appearance of Spigot, who camelooming up the spacious drawing-room in the full magnificence of blackshorts, silk stockings, and buckled pumps, followed by a sheepish-looking,straight-haired, red apple-faced young gentleman, whom he announced as Mr.Robert Foozle. Robert was the hope of the house of Foozle; and it wasfortunate his parents were satisfied with him, for few other people were.He was a young gentleman who shook hands with everybody, assented toanything that anybody said, and in answering a question, wherein indeed hisconversation chiefly consisted, he always followed the words of theinterrogation as much as he could. For instance: 'Well, Robert, have youbeen at Dulverton to-day?' Answer, 'No, I've not been at Dulverton to-day.'Question, 'Are you going to Dulverton to-morrow?' Answer, 'No, I'm notgoing to Dulverton to-morrow.' Having shaken hands with the party allround, and turned to the fire to warm his red fists, Jawleyford havingstood at 'attention' for such time as he thought Mrs. Foozle would beoccupied before the glass in his study arranging her head-gear, and seeingno symptoms of any further announcement, at last asked Foozle if his papaand mamma were not coming.
'No, my papa and mamma are not coming,' replied he.
'Are you sure?' asked Jawleyford, in a tone of excitement.
'Quite sure,' replied Foozle, in the most matter-of-course voice.
MR. ROBERT FOOZLE]
'The deuce!' exclaimed Jawleyford, stamping his foot upon the soft rug,adding, 'it never rains but it pours!'
'Have you any note, or anything?' asked Mrs. Jawleyford, who had followedRobert Foozle into the room.
'Yes, I have a note,' replied he, diving into the inner pocket of his coat,and producing one. The note was a letter--a letter from Mrs. Foozle to Mrs.Jawleyford, three sides and crossed; and seeing the magnitude thereof, Mrs.Jawleyford quietly put it into her reticule, observing, 'that she hoped Mr.and Mrs. Foozle were well?'
'Yes, they are well,' replied Robert, notwithstanding he had express ordersto say that his papa had the toothache, and his mamma the earache.
Jawleyford then gave a furious ring at the bell for dinner, and in duecourse of time the party of six proceeded to a table for twelve. Spongepawned Mrs. Jawleyford off upon Robert Foozle, which gave Sponge the rightto the fair Amelia, who walked off on his arm with a toss of her head atEmily, as though she thought him the finest, sprightliest man under thesun. Emily followed, and Jawleyford came sulking in alone, sore put out atthe failure of what he meant for _the_ grand entertainment.
Lights blazed in profusion; lamps more accustomed had now become betterbehaved; and the whole strength of the plate was called in requisition,sadly puzzling the unfortunate cook to find something to put upon thedishes. She, however, was a real magnanimous-minded woman, who wouldundertake to cook a lord mayor's feast--soups, sweets, joints, entrees, andall.
Jawleyford was nearly silent during the dinner; indeed, he was too far offfor conversation, had there been any for him to join in; which was not thecase, for Amelia and Sponge kept up a hum of words, while Emily workedRobert Foozle with question and answer, such as:
"Were your sisters out to-day?"
"Yes, my sisters were out to-day."
"Are your sisters going to the Christmas ball?"
"Yes, my sisters are going to the Christmas ball," &c. &c.
Still, nearly daft as Robert was, he was generally asked where there wasanything going on; and more than one young la--but we will not tell aboutthat, as he has nothing to do with our story.
By the time the ladies took their departure, Mr. Jawleyford had somewhatrecovered from the annoyance of his disappointment; and as they retired herang the bell, and desired Spigot to set in the horse-shoe table, and bringa bottle of the "green seal," being the colour affixed on the bottles of afour-dozen hamper of port ("curious old port at 48_s_.") that had arrivedfrom "Wintle & Co." by rail (goods train of course) that morning.
"There!" exclaimed Jawleyford, as Spigot placed the richly cut decanter onthe horse-shoe table. "There!" repeated he, drawing the green curtain as ifto shade it from the fire, but in reality to hide the dulness the recentshaking had given it; "that wine," said he, "is a quarter of a century inbottle, at the very least."
'Indeed,' observed Sponge: 'time it was drunk.'
'A quarter of a century?' gaped Robert Foozle.
'Quarter of a century if it's a day,' replied Jawleyford, smacking his lipsas he set down his glass after imbibing the precious beverage.
'Very fine,' observed Sponge; adding, as he sipped off his glass, 'it's oddto find such old wine so full-bodied.'
'Well, now tell us all about your day's proceedings,' said Jawleyford,thinking it advisable to change the conversation at once. 'What sport hadyou with my lord?'
'Oh, why, I really can't tell you much,' drawled Sponge, with an air ofbewilderment. 'Strange country--strange faces--nobody I knew, and--'
'Ah, true,' replied Jawleyford, 'true. It occurred to me after you weregone, that perhaps you might not know any one. Ours, you see, is rather anout-of-the-way country; few of our people go to town, or indeed anywhereelse; they are all tar
ry-at-home birds. But they'd receive you with greatpoliteness, I'm sure--if they knew you came from here, at least,' added he.
Sponge was silent, and took a great gulp of the dull 'Wintle,' to savehimself from answering.
'Was my Lord Scamperdale out?' asked Jawleyford, seeing he was not going toget a reply.
'Why, I can really hardly tell you that,' replied Sponge. 'There were twomen out, either of whom might be him; at least, they both seemed to takethe lead, and--and--' he was going to say 'blow up the people,' but hethought he might as well keep that to himself.
'Stout, hale-looking men, dressed much alike, with great broadtortoise-shell-rimmed spectacles on?' asked Jawleyford.
'Just so,' replied Sponge.
'Ah, you are right, then,' rejoined Jawleyford; 'it would be my lord.'
'And who was the other?' inquired our friend.
'Oh, that Jack Spraggon,' replied Jawleyford, curling up his nose, as ifhe was going to be sick; 'one of the most odious wretches under the sun. Ireally don't know any man that I have so great a dislike to, so utter acontempt for, as that Jack, as they call him.'
'What is he?' asked Sponge.
'Oh, just a hanger-on of his lordship's; the creature has nothing--nothingwhatever; he lives on my lord--eats his venison, drinks his claret, rideshis horses, bullies those his lordship doesn't like to tackle with, andmakes himself generally useful.'
'He seems a man of that sort,' observed Sponge, as he thought over thecompliment he had received.
'Well, who else had you out, then?' asked Jawleyford. 'Was Tom Washballthere?'
'No,' replied Sponge: '_he_ wasn't out, I know.'
'Ah, that's unfortunate,' observed Jawleyford, helping himself and passingthe bottle. 'Tom's a capital fellow--a perfect gentleman--great friend ofmine. If he'd been out you'd have had nothing to do but mention my name,and he'd have put you all right in a minute. Who else was there, then?'continued he.
'There was a tall man in black, on a good-looking young brown horse, ratherrash at his fences, but a fine style of goer.'
'What!' exclaimed Jawleyford, 'man in drab cords and jack-boots, with thebrim of his hat rather turning upwards?'
'Just so,' replied Sponge; 'and a double ribbon for a hat-string.'
'That's Master Blossomnose,' observed Jawleyford, scarcely able to containhis indignation. 'That's Master Blossomnose,' repeated he, taking a backhand at the port in the excitement of the moment. 'More to his credit if hewere to stay at home and attend to his parish,' added Jawleyford; meaning,it would have been more to his credit if he had fulfilled his engagement tohim that evening, instead of going out hunting in the morning.
The two then sat silent for a time, Sponge seeing where the sore place was,and Robert Foozle, as usual, seeing nothing. 'Ah, well,' observedJawleyford, at length breaking silence, 'it was unfortunate you went thismorning. I did my best to prevent you--told you what a long way it was, andso on. However, never mind, we will put all right to-morrow. His lordship,I'm sure, will be most happy to see you. So help yourself,' continued he,passing the 'Wintle,' 'and we will drink his health and success tofox-hunting.'
Sponge filled a bumper and drank his lordship's health, with theaccompaniment as desired; and turning to Robert Foozle, who was doinglikewise, said, 'Are you fond of hunting?'
'Yes, I'm fond of hunting,' replied Foozle.
'But you _don't_ hunt, you know, Robert,' observed Jawleyford.
'No, I don't hunt,' replied Robert.
The 'green seal' being demolished, Jawleyford ordered a bottle of the'other,' attributing the slight discoloration (which he did not discoveruntil they had nearly finished the bottle) to change of atmosphere in theouter cellar. Sponge tackled vigorously with the new-comer, which wasbetter than the first; and Robert Foozle, drinking as he spoke, by pattern,kept filling away, much to Jawleyford's dissatisfaction, who was compelledto order a third. During the progress of its demolition, the host's tonguebecame considerably loosened. He talked of hunting and the charms of thechase--of the good fellowship it produced: and expatiated on the advantagesit was of to the country in a national point of view, promoting as it did aspirit of manly enterprise, and encouraging our unrivalled breed of horses;both of which he looked upon as national objects, well worthy the attentionof enlightened men like himself.
Jawleyford was a great patron of the chase; and his keeper, Watson, alwayshad a bag-fox ready to turn down when my lord's hounds met there.Jawleyford's covers were never known to be drawn blank. Though they hadbeen shot in the day before, they always held a fox the next--if a fox waswanted.
Sponge being quite at home on the subjects of horses and hunting, laudedall his papa-in-law's observations up to the skies; occasionallyconsidering whether it would be advisable to sell him a horse, andthinking, if he did, whether he should let him have one of the three he haddown, or should get old Buckram to buy some quiet screw that would stand alittle work and yield him (Sponge) a little profit, and yet not demolishthe great patron of English sports. The more Jawleyford drank, the moreenergetic he became, and the greater pleasure he anticipated from the meetof the morrow. He docked the lord, and spoke of 'Scamperdale' as anexcellent fellow--a real, good, hearty, honest Englishman--a man that 'themore you knew the more you liked'; all of which was very encouraging toSponge. Spigot at length appeared to read the tea and coffee riot-act, whenJawleyford determined not to be done out of another bottle, pointing to thenearly emptied decanter, said to Robert Foozle, 'I suppose you'll not takeany more wine?' To which Robert replied, 'No, I'll not take any more wine.'Whereupon, pushing out his chair and throwing away his napkin, Jawleyfordarose and led the way to the drawing-room, followed by Sponge and thisentertaining young gentleman.
A round game followed tea; which, in its turn, was succeeded by a massivesilver tray, chiefly decorated with cold water and tumblers; and as thevarious independent clocks in the drawing-room began chiming and strikingeleven, Mr. Jawleyford thought he would try to get rid of Foozle by askinghim if he hadn't better stay all night.
'Yes, I think I'd better stay all night,' replied Foozle.
'But won't they be expecting you at home, Robert?' asked Jawleyford, notfeeling disposed to be caught in his own trap.
'Yes, they'll be expecting me at home,' replied Foozle.
'Then, perhaps you had better not alarm them by staying,' suggestedJawleyford.
'No, perhaps I'd better not alarm them by staying,' repeated Foozle.Whereupon they all rose, and wishing him a very good night, Jawleyfordhanded him over to Spigot, who transferred him to one footman, who passedhim to another, to button into his leather-headed shandridan.
After talking Robert over, and expatiating on the misfortune it would be tohave such a boy, Jawleyford rang the bell for the banquet of water to betaken away; and ordering breakfast half-an-hour earlier than usual, ourfriends went to bed.
Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour Page 21