He was not a ball-going man: far from it. Also, I question whether it is not a breach of privilege that your rest at an hotel should be broken for a whole night by the thumping of feet, the squeaking of fiddles, the Scotch Quadrilles, and the monotonous “Tempête;” whilst your dinner and general comfort for two days previous to, and two days after the solemnity, is reduced to positive misery. Nevertheless, Mr. Sawyer caught himself repeating more than once during the evening—which, by the way, he spent in an atmosphere of smoke, with Struggles, Brush, Savage, and the Honourable Crasher—“Ball! ball!—was ever anything so lucky? Go!—of course I’ll go! In fact, I promised: and perhaps she’ll dance with me _twice_!” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XIII “AFTER DARK” I NEVER can understand upon what principle the rate of a groom’s wages is always inversely proportioned to the work he performs. For instance, Major Brush’s excellent domestic—a bât-man, of lengthy proportions and military exterior—brushed his master’s clothes, prepared his master’s breakfast, took the first horse to covert, and rode the second on occasion, cleaning either or both, if necessary, when they came in, upon a stipend which would barely have kept Mr. Tiptop in Cavendish and blacking. The latter worthy, with a whole troop of helpers under his command, never seemed to have a moment to spare for anything but the routine duties of his station. As for riding a second horse, or remaining out on a wet day, beyond his accustomed dinner-hour, his master would as soon have thought of bidding him dig potatoes! No: if Mr. Tiptop went out hunting at all, it was generally on a _third_ horse in excellent condition, that wanted a couple of hours’ preparation for the day after to-morrow, when the rider, in a long-backed coat, a shaved hat, and the best boots and breeches the art of man can compass, might be seen at intervals, during a run with the first fox, now opening a hand-gate, now creeping cautiously through a gap, and anon cantering, with a Newmarket seat, and his hands down, up some grassy slope, in front of soldiers, statesmen, hereditary legislators, and justices of the peace, as if not only the field, but the country, was his own. Old Isaac, on the contrary, though subject to occasional “rustiness,” and imbued with a strong aversion to what he called being “put upon,” was ready and willing to turn his hand to anything, if he thought such versatility would _really_ conduce to Mr. Sawyer’s advantage. With the assistance of The Boy—who, indeed, since his arrival at Harborough, had been constantly inebriated—the old man looked after the three hunters, the hack, and his master, with considerable satisfaction. He had even spare time on his hands, now that he was removed from the responsibility of the pigs, the poultry, and potatoes at The Grange.