‘Well,’ observed Jack, sweeping a red cotton handkerchief, with which he had been protecting his leathers, off into his pocket, ’there’s an end of that.’

‘Don’t go so quick,’ replied his lordship, ladling in the porridge.

‘Quick!’ retorted Jack; ‘why, what can you do?’

‘Do! why, go to be sure,’ replied his lordship.

‘How can I go,’ asked Jack, ‘when the sinner’s written to put me off?’

‘Nicely,’ replied his lordship, ’nicely.  I’ll just send word back by the servant that you had started before the note arrived, but that you shall have it as soon as you return; and you just cast up there as if nothing had happened.’  So saying, his lordship took hold of the whipcord-pull and gave the bell a peal.

‘There’s no beating you,’ observed Jack.

Bags now made his appearance again.

‘Is the servant here that brought this note?’ asked his lordship, holding it up.

‘Yes, me lord,’ replied Bags.

’Then tell him to tell his master, with my compliments, that Mr. Spraggon had set off for Jawleyford Court before it came, but that he shall have it as soon as he returns—­you understand?’

‘Yes, me lord,’ replied Bags, looking at Jack supping up the fat porridge, and wondering how the lie would go down with Harry, who was then discussing his master’s merits and a horn of small beer with the lad who was going to drive Jack.

Jawleyford Court was twenty miles from Woodmansterne as the crow flies, and any distance anybody liked to call it by the road.  The road, indeed, would seem to have been set out with a view of getting as many hills and as little level ground over which a traveller could make play as possible; and where it did not lead over the tops of the highest hills, it wound round their bases, in such little, vexatious, up-and-down, wavy dips as completely to do away with all chance of expedition.  The route was not along one continuous trust, but here over a bit of turnpike and there over a bit of turnpike, with ever and anon long interregnums of township roads, repaired in the usual primitive style with mud and soft field-stones, that turned up like flitches of bacon.  A man would travel from London to Exeter by rail in as short a time, and with far greater ease, than he would drive from Lord Scamperdale’s to Jawleyford Court.  His lordship being aware of this fact, and thinking, moreover, it was no use trashing a good horse over such roads, had desired Frostyface to put an old spavined grey mare, that he had bought for the kennel, into the dog-cart, and out of which, his lordship thought, if he could get a day’s work or two, she would come all the cheaper to the boiler.

‘That’s a good-shaped beast,’ observed his lordship, as she now came hitching round to the door; ‘I really think she would make a cover hack.’

‘Sooner you ride her than me,’ replied Jack, seeing his lordship was coming the dealer over him—­praising the shape when he could say nothing for the action.