‘Yes, sir,’ said Snaffle.

’Sir ’Arry, ‘It-me-’ard.’

‘Won’t you put him on Sir-danapalis?’ asked Snaffle.

‘No,’ replied Watchorn, ’no; I wants to save the Bart.—­I wants to save the Bart.  Sir ’Arry must ride ‘It-me-’ard.’

‘Is her ladyship going?’ asked Snaffle.

‘Her ladyship drives,’ replied Watchorn.  ‘And you.  Snooks,’ addressing a bare-armed helper, ’tell Mr. Traces to turn her out a pony phaeton and pair, with fresh rosettes and all complete, you know.’

‘Yes sir,’ said Snooks, with a touch of his forelock.

‘And you’d better tell Mr. Leather to have a horse for his master,’ observed Watchorn to Snaffle, ’unless as how you wish to put him on one of yours.’

‘Not I,’ exclaimed Snaffle; ’have enough to mount without him.  D’ye know how many’ll be goin’?’ asked he.

‘No,’ replied Watchorn, hurrying off; adding, as he went, ’oh, hang ’em, just saddle ’em all, and let ’em scramble for ’em.’

The scene then changed.  Instead of hissing helpers pursuing their vocations in stable or saddle-room, they began bustling about with saddles on their heads and bridles in their hands, the day of expected ease being changed into one of unusual trouble.  Mr. Leather declared, as he swept the clothes over Multum-in-Parvo’s tail, that it was the most unconscionable proceeding he had ever witnessed; and muttered something about the quiet comforts he had left at Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey’s, hinting his regret at having come to Sir Harry’s, in a sort of dialogue with himself as he saddled the horse.  The beauties of the last place always come out strong when a servant gets to another.  But we must accompany Mr. Watchorn.

Though his early career with the Camberwell and Balham Hill Union harriers had not initiated him much into the delicacies of the chase, yet, recollecting the presence of Mr. Sponge, he felt suddenly seized with a desire of ‘doing things as they should be’; and he went muttering to the kennel, thinking how he would leave Dinnerbell and Prosperous at home, and how the pack would look quite as well without Frantic running half a field ahead, or old Stormer and Stunner bringing up the rear with long protracted howls.  He doubted, indeed, whether he would take Desperate, who was an incorrigible skirter; but as she was not much worse in this respect than Chatterer or Harmony, who was also an inveterate babbler, and the pack would look rather short without them, he reserved the point for further consideration, as the judges say.

His speculations were interrupted by arriving at the kennel, and finding the door fast, he looked under the slate, and above the frame, and inside the window, and on the wall, for the key; and his shake, and kick, and clatter were only answered by a full chorus from the excited company within.

’Hang the feller! what’s got ‘im!’ exclaimed he, meaning Joe Haggish, the feeder, whom he expected to find there.