He then stood, door in hand,
listening for the arrival. He could just hear the gig grinding under the
portico, and distinguish Jack's gruff voice saying to the servant from the
top of the steps, 'We'll start _directly_ after breakfast, mind.' A
tremendous peal of the bell immediately followed, convulsing the whole
house, for nobody had seen the vehicle approaching, and the establishment
had fallen into the usual state of undress torpor that intervenes between
calling hours and dinner-time.
The bell not being answered as quickly as Jack expected, he just opened the
door himself; and when Spigot arrived, with such a force as he could raise
at the moment, Jack was in the act of 'peeling' himself, as he called it.
'What time do we dine?' asked he, with the air of a man with the entree.
'Seven o'clock, my lord--that's to say, sir--that's to say, my lord,' for
Spigot really didn't know whether it was Jack or his master.
'Seven o'clock!' muttered Jack. 'What the deuce is the use of dinin' at
such an hour as that in winter?'
Jack and my lord always dined as soon as they got home from hunting.
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