iney, like most victuallers,
was more given to games of skill--billiards, shuttlecock, skittles,
dominoes, and so on--than to the rude out-of-door chances of flood and
field, and at first he doubted his ability to grapple with the details; but
on Mr. Watchorn's assurance that he would keep him straight, he gave Mrs.
Viney a key, desiring her to go into the inner cellar, and bring out a
bottle of the green seal. This was ninety-shilling sherry--very good stuff
to take; and, by the time they got into the second bottle, they had got
into the middle of the scheme too. Viney was cautious and thoughtful. He
had a high opinion of Watchorn's sagacity, and so long as Watchorn confined
himself to weights, and stakes, and forfeits, and so on, he was content to
leave himself in the hands of the huntsman; but when Watchorn came to talk
of 'stewards,' putting this person and that together, Viney's experience
came in aid. Viney knew a good deal. He had not stood twisting a napkin
negligently before a plate-loaded sideboard without picking up a good many
waifs and strays in the shape of those ins and outs, those likings and
dislikings, those hatreds and jealousies, that foolish people let fall so
freely before servants, as if for all the world the servants were
sideboards themselves; and he had kept up his stock of service-gained
knowledge by a liberal, though not a dignity-compromising intercourse--for
there is no greater aristocrat than your out-of-livery servant--among the
upper servants of all the families in the neighbourhood, so that he knew to
a nicety who would pull together, and who wouldn't, whose name it would not
do to mention to this person, and who it would not do to apply to before
that.

Neither Watchorn nor Viney being sportsmen, they thought they had nothing
to do but apply to two friends who were; and after thinking over who hunted
in couples, they were unfortunate enough to select our Flat Hat friends,
Fyle and Fossick. Fyle was indignant beyond measure at being asked to be
steward to a steeple-chase, and thrust the application into the fire; while
Fossick just wrote below, 'I'll see you hanged first,' and sent it back
without putting even a fresh head on the envelope. Nothing daunted,
however, they returned to the charge, and without troubling the reader with
unnecessary detail, we think it will be generally admitted that they at
length made an excellent selection in Mr. Puffington, Guano, and Tom
Washball.

[Illu