Dinner was presently announced; but his lordship, instead of choosing to sit with his back to the fire, took the single chair opposite, which gave him a commanding view of the young ladies. He did not, however, take any advantage of his position during the repast, neither did he talk much, his maxim being to let his meat stop his mouth. The preponderance of his observations, perhaps, were addressed to Amelia, though a watchful observer might have seen that the spectacles were oftener turned upon Emily. Up to the withdrawal of the cloth, however, there was no perceptible advantage on either side. [Illustration] As his lordship settled to the sweets, at which he was a great hand at dessert, Amelia essayed to try her influence with the popular subject of a ball. 'I wish the members of your hunt would give us a ball, my lord,' observed she. 'Ah, hay, hum--ball,' replied he, ladling up the syrup of some preserved peaches that he had been eating; 'ball, ball, ball. No place to give it--no place to give it,' repeated he. 'Oh, give it in the town-hall, or the long room at the Angel,' replied she. 'Town-hall--long room at the Angel--Angel at the long room of the town-hall--oh, certainly, certainly, certainly,' muttered he, scraping away at the contents of his plate. 'Then that's a bargain, mind,' observed Amelia significantly. 'Bargain, bargain, bargain--certainly,' replied he; 'and I'll lead off with you, or you'll lead off with me--whichever way it is--meanwhile, I'll trouble you for a piece of that gingerbread.' Having supplied him with a most liberal slice, she resumed the subject of the ball. 'Then we'll fix it so,' observed she. 'Oh, fix it so, certainly--certainly fix it so,' replied his lordship, filling his mouth full of gingerbread. 'Suppose we have it on the day of the races?' continued Amelia. 'Couldn't be better,' replied his lordship; 'couldn't be better,' repeated he, eyeing her intently through his formidable specs. His lordship was quite in the assenting humour, and would have agreed to anything--anything short of lending one a five-pound note. Amelia was charmed with her success. Despite the spot on her nose, she felt she was winning. His lordship sat like a target, shot at by all, but making the most of his time, both in the way of eating and staring between questions. At length the ladies withdrew, and his lordship having waddled to the door to assist their egress, now availed himself of Jawleyford's invitation to occupy an arm-chair during the enjoyment of his 'Wintle.'