A NEW SCHEME
[Illustration]
Our friend Soapey was now in good feather; he had got a large price for his
good-for-nothing horse, with a very handsome bonus for not getting him
back, making him better off than he had been for some time. Gentlemen of
his calibre are generally extremely affluent in everything except cash.
They have bills without end--bills that nobody will touch, and book debts
in abundance--book debts entered with metallic pencils in curious little
clasped pocket-books, with such utter disregard of method that it would
puzzle an accountant to comb them into anything like shape.
It is true, what Mr. Sponge got from Mr. Waffles were bills--but they were
good bills, and of such reasonable date as the most exacting of the Jew
tribe would 'do' for twenty per cent. Mr. Sponge determined to keep the
game alive, and getting Hercules and Multum in Parvo together again, he
added a showy piebald hack, that Buckram had just got from some circus
people who had not been able to train him to their work.
The question now was, where to manoeuvre this imposing stud--a problem
that Mr. Sponge quickly solved.
Among the many strangers who rushed into indiscriminate friendship with our
hero at Laverick Wells, was Mr. Jawleyford, of Jawleyford Court, in
----shire. Jawleyford was a great humbug. He was a fine, off-hand,
open-hearted, cheery sort of fellow, who was always delighted to see you,
would start at the view, and stand with open arms in the middle of the
street, as though quite overjoyed at the meeting. Though he never gave
dinners, nor anything where he was, he asked everybody, at least everybody
who did give them, to visit him at Jawleyford Court. If a man was fond of
fishing, he must come to Jawleyford Court, he must, indeed; he would take
no refusal, he wouldn't leave him alone till he promised. He would show him
such fishing--no waters in the world to compare with his. The Shannon and
the Tweed were not to be spoken of in the same day as his waters in the
Swiftley.
Shooting, the same way. 'By Jove! are you a shooter? Well, I'm delighted to
hear it. Well, now, we shall be at home all September, and up to the middle
of October, and you must just come to us at your own time, and I will give
you some of the finest partridge and pheasant shooting you ever saw in your
life; Norfolk can show nothing to what I can. Now, my good fellow, say the
word; _do_ say you'll come, and then it will be a settled thing, and I
shall look forward to it with such pleasure!'
He was equally magnanimous about hunting, though, like a good many people
who have 'had their hunts,' he pretended that his day was over, though he
was a most zealous promoter of the sport. So he asked everybody who did
hunt to come and see him; and what with his hearty, affable manner, and the
unlimited nature of his invitations, he generally passed for a deuced
hospitable, good sort of fellow, and came in for no end of dinners and
other entertainments for his wife and daughters, of which he had
two--daughters, we mean, not wives. His time was about up at Laverick Wells
when Mr. Sponge arrived there; nevertheless, during the few days that
remained to them, Mr. Jawleyford contrived to scrape a pretty intimate
acquaintance with a gentleman whose wealth was reported to equal, if it did
not exceed, that of Mr. Waffles himself. The following was the closing
scene between them:
[Illustration: Jawleyford of Jawleyford Court]
'Mr. Sponge,' said he, getting our hero by both hands in Culeyford's
Billiard Room, and shaking them as though he could not bear the idea of
separation; 'my dear Mr. Sponge,' added he, 'I grieve to say we're going
to-morrow; I had hoped to have stayed a little longer, and to have enjoyed
the pleasure of your most agreeable society.' (This was true; he would have
stayed, only his banker wouldn't let him have any more money.) 'But,
however, I won't say adieu,' continued he; 'no, I _won't_ say adieu! I
live, as you perhaps know, in one of the best hunting countries in
England--my Lord Scamperdale's--Scamperdale and I are like brothers; I can
do whatever I like with him--he has, I may say, the finest pack of hounds
in the world; his huntsman, Jack Frostyface, I really believe, cannot be
surpassed. Come, then, my dear fellow,' continued Mr. Jawleyford,
increasing the grasp and shake of the hands, and looking most earnestly in
Sponge's face, as if deprecating a refusal; 'come, then, my dear fellow,
and see us; we will do whatever we can to entertain and make you
comfortable. Scamperdale shall keep our side of the country till you come;
there are capital stables at Lucksford, close to the station, and you shall
have a stall for your hack at Jawleyford, and a man to look after him, if
you like; so now, don't say nay--your time shall be ours--we shall be at
home all the rest of the winter, and I flatter myself, if you once come
down, you will be inclined to repeat your visit; at least, I hope so.'
There are two common sayings; one, 'that birds of a feather flock
together'; the other, 'that two of a trade never agree'; which often seem
to us to contradict each other in the actual intercourse of life. Humbugs
certainly have the knack of drawing together, and yet they are always
excellent friends, and will vouch for the goodness of each other in a way
that few straight-forward men think it worth their while to adopt with
regard to indifferent people. Indeed, humbugs are not always content to
defend their absent brother humbugs when they hear them abused, but they
will frequently lug each other in neck and crop, apparently for no other
purpose than that of proclaiming what excellent fellows they are, and see
if anybody will take up the cudgels against them.
Mr. Sponge, albeit with a considerable cross of the humbug himself, and one
who perfectly understood the usual worthlessness of general invitations,
was yet so taken with Mr. Jawleyford's hail-fellow-well-met, earnest sort
of manner, that, adopting the convenient and familiar solution in such
matters, that there is no rule without an exception, concluded that Mr.
Jawleyford was the exception, and really meant what he said.
Independently of the attractions offered by hunting, which were both strong
and cogent, we have said there were two young ladies, to whom fame attached
the enormous fortunes common in cases where there is a large property and
no sons. Still Sponge was a wary bird, and his experience of the
worthlessness of most general invitations made him think it just possible
that it might not suit Mr. Jawleyford to receive him now, at the particular
time he wanted to go; so after duly considering the case, and also the
impressive nature of the invitation, so recently given, too, he determined
not to give Jawleyford the chance of refusing him, but just to say he was
coming, and drop down upon him before he could say 'no.' Accordingly, he
penned the following epistle:
'BANTAM HOTEL, BOND-STREET, LONDON.
'DEAR JAWLEYFORD,
'I purpose being with you to-morrow, by the express train, which I see, by
Bradshaw, arrives at Lucksford a quarter to three. I shall only bring two
hunters and a hack, so perhaps you could oblige me by taking them in for
the short time I shall stay, as it would not be convenient for me to
separate them. Hoping to find Mrs. Jawleyford and the young ladies well, I
remain, dear sir,'
'Yours very truly,
'H. SPONGE.
'To--JAWLEYFORD, Esq., Jawleyford Court, Lucksford.'
'Curse the fellow!' exclaimed Jawleyford, nearly choking himself with a
fish bone, as he opened and read the foregoing at breakfast. 'Curse the
fellow!' he repeated, stamping the letter under foot, as though he would
crush it to atoms. 'Who ever saw such a piece of impudence as that!'
'What's the matter, my dear?' inquired Mrs. Jawleyford, alarmed lest it was
her dunning jeweller writing again.
'Matter!' shrieked Jawleyford, in a tone that sounded through the thick
wall of the room, and caused the hobbling old gardener on the terrace to
peep in at the heavy-mullioned window. 'Matter!' repeated he, as though he
had got his _coup de grace_; 'look there,' added he, handing over the
letter.
'Oh, my dear,' rejoined Mrs. Jawleyford soothingly, as soon as she saw it
was not what she expected. 'Oh, my dear, I'm sure there's nothing to make
you put yourself so much out of the way.' 'No!' roared Jawleyford,
determined not to be done out of his grievance. 'No!' repeated he; 'do you
call that nothing?'
'Why, nothing to make yourself unhappy about,' replied Mrs. Jawleyford,
rather pleased than otherwise; for she was glad it was not from Rings, the
jeweller, and, moreover, hated the monotony of Jawleyford Court, and was
glad of anything to relieve it. If she had had her own way, she would have
gadded about at watering-places all the year round.
'Well,' said Jawleyford, with a toss of the head and a shrug of
resignation, 'you'll have me in gaol; I see that.'
'Nay, my dear J.,' rejoined his wife, soothingly; 'I'm sure you've plenty
of money.'
'Have I!' ejaculated Jawleyford. 'Do you suppose, if I had, I'd have left
Laverick Wells without paying Miss Bustlebey, or given a bill at three
months for the house-rent?'
'Well, but, my dear, you've nothing to do but tell Mr. Screwemtight to get
you some money from the tenants.'
'Money from the tenants!' replied Mr. Jawleyford. 'Screwemtight tells me he
can't get another farthing from any man on the estate.'
'Oh, pooh!' said Mrs. Jawleyford; 'you're far too good to them. I always
say Screwemtight looks far more to their interest than he does to yours.'
[Illustration]
Jawleyford, we may observe, was one of the rather numerous race of
paper-booted, pen-and-ink landowners. He always dressed in the country as
he would in St. James's Street, and his communications with his tenantry
were chiefly confined to dining with them twice a year in the great
entrance-hall, after Mr. Screwemtight had eased them of their cash in the
steward's room. Then Mr. Jawleyford would shine forth the very
impersonification of what a landlord ought to be. Dressed in the height of
the fashion, as if by his clothes to give the lie to his words, he would
expatiate on the delights of such meetings of equality; declare that, next
to those spent with his family, the only really happy moments of his life
were those when he was surrounded by his tenantry; he doated on the manly
character of the English farmer. Then he would advert to the great
antiquity of the Jawleyford family, many generations of whom looked down
upon them from the walls of the old hall; some on their war-steeds, some
armed _cap-a-pie_, some in court-dresses, some in Spanish ones, one in a
white dress with gold brocade breeches and a hat with an enormous plume,
old Jawleyford (father of the present one) in the Windsor uniform, and our
friend himself, the very prototype of what then stood before them. Indeed,
he had been painted in the act of addressing his hereditary chawbacons in
the hall in which the picture was suspended. There he stood, with his
bright auburn hair (now rather badger-pied, perhaps, but still very
passable by candlelight)--his bright auburn hair, we say, swept boldly off
his lofty forehead, his hazy grey eyes flashing with the excitement of
drink and animation, his left hand reposing on the hip of his well-fitting
black pantaloons, while the right one, radiant with rings, and trimmed with
upturned wristband, sawed the air, as he rounded off the periods of the
well-accustomed saws.
Jawleyford, like a good many people, was very hospitable when in full
fig--two soups, two fishes, and the necessary concomitants; but he would
see any one far enough before he would give him a dinner merely because he
wanted one. That sort of ostentatious banqueting has about brought country
society in general to a deadlock. People tire of the constant revision of
plate, linen, and china.
Mrs. Jawleyford, on the other hand, was a very rough-and-ready sort of
woman, never put out of her way; and though she constantly preached the old
doctrine that girls 'are much better single than married,' she was always
on the look-out for opportunities of contradicting her assertions.
She was an Irish lady, with a pedigree almost as long as Jawleyford's, but
more compressible pride, and if she couldn't get a duke, she would take a
marquis or an earl, or even put up with a rich commoner.
The perusal, therefore, of Sponge's letter, operated differently upon her
to what it did upon her husband, and though she would have liked a little
more time, perhaps, she did not care to take him as they were. Jawleyford,
however, resisted violently. It would be most particularly inconvenient to
him to receive company at that time. If Mr. Sponge had gone through the
whole three hundred and sixty-five days in the year, he could not have hit
upon a more inconvenient one for him. Besides, he had no idea of people
writing in that sort of a way, saying they were coming, without giving him
the chance of saying no. 'Well, but, my dear, I dare say you asked him,'
observed Mrs. Jawleyford.
Jawleyford was silent, the scene in the billiard-room recurring to his
mind.
'I've often told you, my dear,' continued Mrs. Jawleyford, kindly, 'that
you shouldn't be so free with your invitations if you don't want people to
come; things are very different now to what they were in the old coaching
and posting days, when it took a day and a night and half the next day to
get here, and I don't know how much money besides. You might then invite
people with safety, but it is very different now, when they have nothing to
do but put themselves into the express train and whisk down in a few
hours.'
'Well, but, confound him, I didn't ask his horses,' exclaimed Jawleyford;
'nor will I have them either,' continued he, with a jerk of the head, as he
got up and rang the bell, as though determined to put a stop to that at all
events.
'Samuel,' said he, to the dirty page of a boy who answered the summons,
'tell John Watson to go down to the Railway Tavern directly, and desire
them to get a three-stalled stable ready for a gentleman's horses that are
coming to-day--a gentleman of the name of Sponge,' added he, lest any one
else should chance to come and usurp them--'and tell John to meet the
express train, and tell the gentleman's groom where it is.'