'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 passed 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.
Pages:
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576