I02 The Harkaway Hunt Ball. 



hardly the place to find old Charlie Dabber in somehow, 

 but here he is nevertheless, hovering round the doorway, 

 and making tender inquiries as to where the oyster-room 

 is, and when it will be open. For, as Charlie well knows, 

 one of the institutions of our Hunt Ball is a small room 

 set apart for the consumption of the native oyster and 

 the brown stout of the period, and mighty popular this 

 particular apartment is, especially with the elderly 

 gentlemen, some of whom don't leave the room until the 

 oysters have run out. How many dozen old Dabber 

 manages to swallow during his stay, we should be afraid 

 to say, but we should imagine that, what with the natives, 

 the supper he subsequently disposes of, and the quantity of 

 champagne he consumes in the course of the night, he must 

 have more than paid for his ball-ticket. Of course. 

 Lord Daisyfield resents the presence of Captain Dabber 

 very warmly. He has never forgiven him and never will 

 for the way he jockeyed him on that broken-winded screw 

 of his at the Hunt races some years ago. ''The fellow is 

 not a gentleman and has no business here ! " says his 

 lordship in his most emphatic manner, to a friend in the 

 supper-room, eyeing his unconscious enemy pegging away 

 at a cold turkey as if he had had nothing to eat for a week. 

 The Captain, looking up by-and-by, with his mouth full, 

 and catching my lord's eye, makes him a polite bow, a 

 piece of civility the noble M.F.H. takes not the slightest 

 notice of. *' Impudent rascal ! " he mutters to himself as 

 he leaves the room. '' Pompous old ass ! " says the shame- 

 less Dabber, holding out his glass for some champagne. 



*' Champagne, sir ? " says a waiter, addressing an elderly 

 gentleman in the Badminton Hunt uniform, who has just 

 strolled up. '' Champagne, — well, upon my soul, I scarcely 



