Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour Part 51

'Indeed,' said Sponge, 'I wonder who's coming?'

'Most likely Guano again; indeed, I know he is, for I asked his groom if he was going home, and he said no; and Lumpleg, you may be sure, and possibly old Blossomnose, Slapp, and, very likely, young Pacey.'

'Are they chaps with any "go" in them?--shake their elbows, or anything of that sort?' asked Sponge, working away as if he had the dice-box in his hand.

'I hardly know,' replied Jack thoughtfully. 'I hardly know. Young Pacey, I think, might be made summut on; but his uncle, Major Screw, looks uncommon sharp after him, and he's a minor.'

'Would he _pay_?' asked Sponge, who, keeping as he said, 'no books,' was not inclined to do business on 'tick.'

'Don't know,' replied Jack, squinting at half-c.o.c.k; 'don't know--would depend a good deal, I should say, upon how it was done. It's a deuced unhandsome world this. If one wins a trifle of a youngster at cards, let it be ever so openly done, it's sure to say one's cheated him, just because one happens to be a little older, as if age had anything to do with making the cards come right.'

'It's an ungenerous world,' observed Sponge, 'and it's no use being abused for nothing. What sort of a genius is Pacey? Is he inclined to go the pace?'

'Oh, quite,' replied Jack; 'his great desire is to be thought a sportsman.'

'A sportsman or a sporting man?' asked Sponge.

'W-h-o-y! I should say p'raps a sportin' man more than the sportsman,'

replied Jack. 'He's a great lumberin' lad, b.u.t.tons his great stomach into a Newmarket cutaway, and carries a betting-book in his breast pocket.'

'Oh, he's a bettor, is he!' exclaimed Sponge, brightening up.

'He's a raw poult of a chap,' replied Jack; 'just ready for anything--in a small way, at least--a chap that's always offering two to one in half-crowns. He'll have money, though, and can't be far off age. His father was a great spectacle-maker. You have heard of Pacey's spectacles?'

'Can't say as how I have,' replied Sponge, adding, 'they are more in your line than mine.'

The further consideration of the youth was interrupted by the entrance of a footman with hot water, who announced that dinner would be ready in half an hour.

'Who's there coming?' asked Jack.

'Don't know 'xactly, sir,' replied the man; 'believe much the same party as yesterday, with the addition of Mr. Pacey; Mr. Miller, of Newton; Mr. Fogo, of Bellevue; Mr. Brown, of the Hill; and some others whose names I forget.'

'Is Major Screw coming?' asked Sponge.

'I rayther think not, sir. I think I heard Mr. Plummey, the butler, say he declined.'

'So much the better,' growled Jack, throwing off his purple-lapped coat in commencement of his toilette. As the two dressed they discussed the point how Pacey might be done.

When our friends got downstairs it was evident there was a great spread.

Two red-plushed footmen stood on guard in the entrance, helping the arrivers out of their wraps, while a buzz of conversation sounded through the partially opened drawing-room door, as Mr. Plummey stood, handle in hand, to announce the names of the guests. Our friends, having the entree, of course pa.s.sed in as at home, and mingled with the comers and stayers.

Guest after guest quickly followed, almost all making the same observation, namely, that it was a fine day for the time of year, and then each sidled off, rubbing his hands, to the fire. Captain Guano monopolized about one-half of it, like a Colossus of Rhodes, with a coat-lap under each arm. He seemed to think that, being a stayer, he had more right to the fire than the mere diners.

Mr. Puffington moved briskly among the motley throng, now expatiating on the splendour of the run, now hoping a friend was hungry, asking a third after his wife, and apologizing to a fourth for not having called on his sister. Still his real thoughts were in the kitchen, and he kept counting noses and looking anxiously at the timepiece. After the door had had a longer rest than usual, Blossomnose at last cast up: 'Now we're all here surely!' thought he, counting about; 'one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, thirteen, fourteen, myself fifteen--fifteen, fifteen, must be another--sixteen, eight couple asked. Oh, that Pacey's wanting; always comes late, won't wait'--so saying, or rather thinking, Mr. Puffington rang the bell and ordered dinner. Pacey then cast up.

He was just the sort of swaggering youth that Jack had described; a youth who thought money would do everything in the world--make him a gentleman, in short. He came rolling into the room, grinning as if he had done something fine in being late. He had both his great red hands in his tight trouser pockets, and drew the right one out to favour his friends with it 'all hot.'

'I'm late, I guess,' said he, grinning round at the a.s.sembled guests, now dispersed in the various att.i.tudes of expectant eaters, some standing ready for a start, some half-sitting on tables and sofa ends, others resigning themselves complacently to their chairs, abusing Mr. Pacey and all dinner delayers.

'I'm late, I guess,' repeated he, as he now got navigated up to his host and held out his hand.

'Oh, never mind,' replied Puffington, accepting as little of the proffered paw as he could; 'never mind,' repeated he, adding, as he looked at the French clock on the mantelpiece now chiming a quarter past six, 'I dare say I told you we dined at half-past five.'

'Dare say you did, old boy,' replied Pacey, kicking out his legs, and giving Puffington what he meant for a friendly poke in the stomach, but which in reality nearly knocked his wind out; 'dare say you did, old boy, but so you did last time, if you remember, and deuce a bite did I get before six; so I thought I'd be quits with you this--_he--he--he--haw--haw--haw_,' grinning and staring about as if he had done something very clever.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MR. PACEY]

Pacey was one of those deplorable beings--a country swell. Tomkins and Hopkins, the haberdashers of Swillingford, never exhibited an ugly out-of-the-way neckcloth or waistcoat with the words 'patronized by the Prince,' 'very fas.h.i.+onable,' or 'quite the go,' upon them, but he immediately adorned himself in one. On the present occasion he was attired in a wide-stretching, lace-tipped, black Joinville, with rec.u.mbent gills, showing the heavy amplitude of his enormous jaws, while the extreme scooping out of a collarless, flashy-b.u.t.toned, chain-daubed, black silk waistcoat, with broad blue stripes, afforded an uninterrupted view of a costly embroidered s.h.i.+rt, the view extending, indeed, up to a portion of his white satin 'forget-me-not' embroidered braces. His coat was a broad-sterned, bra.s.s-b.u.t.toned blue, with pockets outside, and of course he wore a pair of creaking highly varnished boots. He was apparently, about twenty; just about the age when a youth thinks it fine to a.s.sociate with men, and an age at which some men are not above taking advantage of a youth. Perhaps he looked rather older than he was, for he was stiff built and strong, with an ample crop of whiskers extending from his great red docken ears round his harvest moon of a face. He was lumpy, and clumsy, and heavy all over. Having now got inducted, he began to stare round the party, and first addressed our worthy friend Mr. Spraggon.

'Well, Sprag, how are you?' asked he.

'Well, Specs' (alluding to his father's trade), 'how are you?' replied Jack, with a growl, to the evident satisfaction of the party, who seemed to regard Pacey as the common enemy.

Fortunately just at the moment Mr. Plummey restored harmony by announcing dinner; and after the usual backing and retiring of mock modesty, Mr.

Puffington said he would 'show them the way,' when there was as great a rush to get in, to avoid the bugbear of sitting with their backs to the fire, as there had been apparent disposition not to go at all.

Notwithstanding the unfavourable aspect of affairs, Mr. Spraggon placed himself next Mr. Pacey, who sat a good way down the table, while Mr. Sponge occupied the post of honour by our host.

In accordance with the usual tactics of these sort of gentlemen, Spraggon and Sponge essayed to be two--if not exactly strangers, at all events gentlemen with very little acquaintance. Spraggon took advantage of a dead silence to call up the table to _Mister_ Sponge to take wine; a compliment that Sponge acknowledged the accordance of by a very low bow into his plate, and by-and-by Mister Sponge 'Mistered' Mr. Spraggon to return the compliment.

'Do you know much of that--that--that--_chap_?' (he would have said sn.o.b if he'd thought it would be safe) asked Pacey, as Sponge returned to still life after the first wine ceremony.

'No,' replied Spraggon, 'nor do I wish.'

'Great sn.o.b,' observed Pacey.

'Shocking,' a.s.sented Spraggon.

'He's got a good horse or two, though,' observed Pacey; 'I saw them on the road coming here the other day.' Pacey, like many youngsters, professed to be a judge of horses, and thought himself rather sharp at a deal.

'They are _good_ horses,' replied Jack, with an emphasis on the good, adding, 'I'd be very glad to have one of them.'

Mr. Spraggon then asked Mr. Pacey to take champagne, as the commencement of a better understanding.

The wine flowed freely, and the guests, particularly the fresh infusion, did ample justice to it. The guests of the day before, having indulged somewhat freely, were more moderate at first, though they seemed well inclined to do their best after they got their stomachs a little restored.

Spraggon could drink any given quant.i.ty at any time.

The conversation got brisker and brisker: and before the cloth was drawn there was a very general clamour, in which all sorts of subjects seemed to be mixed--each man addressing himself to his immediate neighbour; one talking of taxes--another of tares--a third, of hunting and the system of kennel--a fourth, of the corn-laws--old Blossomnose, about t.i.thes--Slapp, about timber and water-jumping--Miller, about Collison's pills; and Guano, about anything that he could get a word edged in about. Great, indeed, was the hubbub. Gradually, however, as the evening advanced Pacey and Guano out-talked the rest, and at length Pacey got the noise pretty well to himself. When anything definite could be extracted from the ma.s.s of confusion, he was expatiating on steeple-chasing, hurdle-racing, weights for age, ons and offs clever--a sort of mixture of hunting, racing, and 'Alken.'

Sponge c.o.c.ked his ear, and sat on the watch, occasionally hazarding an observation, while Jack, who was next Pacey, on the left, pretended to decry Sponge's judgement, asking _sotto voce_, with a whiff through his nose, what such a c.o.c.kney as that could know about horses? What between Jack's encouragement, and the inspiring influence of the bottle, aided by his own self-sufficiency, Pacey began to look upon Sponge with anything but admiration; and at last it occurred to him that he would be a very proper subject to, what he called, 'take the s.h.i.+ne out of.'

'That isn't a bad-like nag, that chestnut of yours, for the wheeler of a coach, Mr. Sponge,' exclaimed he, at the instigation of Spraggon, to our friend, producing, of course, a loud guffaw from the party.

'No, he isn't,' replied Sponge coolly, adding, 'very like one, I should say.'

'Devilish _good_ horse,' growled Jack in Pacey's ear.

'Oh, I dare say,' whispered Pacey, pretending to be sc.r.a.ping up the orange syrup in his plate, adding, 'I'm only chaffing the beggar.'

'He looks solitary without the coach at his tail,' continued Pacey, looking up, and again addressing Sponge up the table.