The Harkaway Hunt Ball. 105 



Bluebell has actually managed, after a deal of persuasion on 

 her part, to inveigle the old gentleman into dancing a quad- 

 rille with her in the course of the evening, and the Father 

 of the Hunt, nov;^ it is over, is immensely proud of the feat, 

 and goes off to his carriage as pleased as Punch, not only 

 with himself but all the world in general, more especially 

 the pretty little Bluebell, on whom he would certainly have 

 bestowed a fatherly kiss, had he had the chance. If it is 

 true, thinks he, what Miss Mouser confided to him not 

 long since — that it is a case of a match between her and 

 Charles Wildoats — he'll give the dear little girl such a 

 present as never was. 



The room is now beginning to thin rapidly, rumours of 

 a nasty night and snow falling are rife, and people are 

 getting to their carriages before it gets worse. 



Half-an-hour more, and the Harkaway Hunt Ball is an 

 event of the past. The indefatigable members of Tootle 

 and Binney's band, having fiddled away all night with 

 only port wine to sustain and keep them going, 

 are now enjoying a hearty meal, well earned if ever a 

 meal was, with plenty of champagne to wash it down, in 

 the supper-room, which they have all to themselves. The 

 champagne they could have had before had they wished, 

 but, on its being offered to him at the commencement of 

 the evening, by one of the stewards, the leader of the band 

 replied that they would prefer port wine while they were 

 playing, as being better to work on, but that, if agreeable, 

 they would wind up with some '' sparkling " at the finish 

 of the entertainment. 



There is no mistake about it, it is a very nasty night, a 

 very nasty night indeed, making the good folk who are 

 driving home wish they had taken up their abode for the 



