ransaction, sought the
privacy of the electric telegraph office, and left him to vent the balance
of his wrath upon the porters.

Of course they could do nothing more than the king of their little colony
had suggested; and finding there was no help for it, Mr. Spraggon at last
submitted to the humiliation, and set off to follow young Muggins with his
bag on the donkey, in his best top-boots, worn under his trousers--an
unpleasant operation to any one, but especially to a man like Jack, who
preferred wearing his tops out against the flaps of his friends' saddles,
rather than his soles by walking upon them. However, necessity said yes;
and cocking his flat hat jauntily on his head, he stuck a cheroot in his
mouth, and went smoking and swaggering on, looking--or rather
squinting--bumptiously at everybody he met, as much as to say, 'Don't
suppose I'm walking from necessity! I've plenty of tin.'

The third cheroot brought Jack and his suite within sight of Hanby House.

Mr. Puffington had about got through all the fuss of his preparations,
arranged the billets of the guests and of those scarcely less important
personages--their servants, allotted the stables, and rehearsed the wines,
when a chance glance through the gaily furnished drawing-room window
discovered Jack trudging up the trimly kept avenue.

'Here's that nasty Spraggon,' exclaimed he, eyeing Jack dragging his legs
along, adding, 'I'll be bound to say he'll never think of wiping his filthy
feet if I don't go to meet him.'

So saying, Puffington rushed to the entrance, and crowning himself with a
white wide-awake, advanced cheerily to do so.

Jack, who was more used to 'cold shoulder' than cordial reception, squinted
and stared with surprise at the unwonted warmth, so different to their last
interview, when Jack was fresh out of his clay-hole in the Brick Fields;
but not being easily put out of his way, he just took Puff as Puff took
him. They talked of Scamperdale, and they talked of Frostyface, and the
number of foxes he had killed, the price of corn, and the difference its
price made in the keep of hounds and horses. Altogether they were very
'thick.'

'And how's our friend Sponge?' asked Puffington, as the conversation at
length began to flag.

'Oh, he's nicely,' replied Jack, adding, 'hasn't he come yet?'

'Not that I've seen,' answered Puffington, adding, 'I thought, perhaps, you
might come together.'

'No,' grunted Jack; 'he comes from Jawleyford'