rly awkward wabbling motion of his feet and legs about
the animal's sides, his right hand flourishing his whip at the same
time into circles in the air, he approached Red Hall, as if he brought
tidings of some great national victory.

He found the baronet perusing a letter, who, after having given him
a nod, and pointing to a chair, without speaking, read on, with an
expression of countenance which almost alarmed poor Crackenfudge.
Whatever intelligence the letter may have contained, one thing seemed
obvious--that it was gall and wormwood to his heart. His countenance,
naturally more than ordinarily dark, literally blackened with rage and
mortification, or perhaps with both; his eyes flashed fire, and seemed
as about to project themselves out of his head, and poor Crackenfudge
could hear most distinctly the grinding of his teeth. At length he rose
up, and strode, as was his custom, through the room, moved by such a
state of feeling as it was awful to look upon. During all this time
he never seemed to notice Crackenfudge, whose face, on the other hand,
formed a very ludicrous contrast with that of the baronet. There was
at any time very little meaning, to an ordinary observer, in the
countenance of this anxious candidate for the magisterial bench, but
it was not without cunning; just as in the case of a certain class of
fools, any one may recollect that anomalous combination of the latter
with features whose blankness betokens the natural idiot at a first
glance. Crackenfudge, who, on this occasion, felt conscious of the
valuable intelligence he was about to communicate, sat with a face in
which might be read, as far at least as anything could, a full sense
of the vast importance with which he was charged, and the agreeable
surprise which he must necessarily give the raging baronet. Not that the
expression, after all, could reach anything higher than that union of
stupidity and assurance which may so frequently be read in the same
countenance.

"A' see, Sir Thomas," he at length said, "that something has vexed you,
and a'm sorry to see it."

The baronet gave him a look of such fury, as in a moment banished not
only the full-blown consciousness of the important intelligence he was
about to communicate, but its very expression from his face, which waxed
meaningless and cowardly-looking as ever.

"A' hope," he added, in an apologetical tone, "that a' didn't offend you
by my observation; at least, a' didn't intend it."