The Last Day of the Season. 193 



elder Mr. Weller would say) with intense fervour, and 

 takes heart of grace from the champagne bottle. Feeling 



much better, he d ns Jones again, and, making up his 



mind this time to try the " cutting out " game on his own 

 account, '' goes in to win," as the pugilists say, without loss 

 of time. 



One might almost liken him to an auctioneer with up- 

 lifted hammer, in fact. He sees his fair enslaver in a riding 

 habit. By jove, how it becomes her ! Going ! He watches 

 her in church. Shares her hymn-book with her ; listens 

 to her sweet voice. Going ! He beholds her in a ball- 

 room, dances with her, watches her lovely face all lit up 

 with pleasurable excitement, and thinks he never saw such 

 a pretty girl in his life, or one so well dressed, and — 

 Gone ! ! ! Down comes the hammer with a bang. 



An angry man hunts in vain for his promised partner in 

 the waltz just striking up. A facetious and observant waiter 

 in the tea room remarks to another waiter, sotto voce, 

 that unless he's wery much mistook, it's a case with them 

 two in the corner. And the tea-room waiter has hit off 

 the situation to a T (no pun intended, really no). Another 

 good man has gone wrong, and it is an engaged couple 

 that presently return to the ballroom. We would not 

 give a snap of our fingers for a ball that was not respon- 

 sible for at least half-a-dozen engagements of this sort, and 

 we are proud to state that the annual ball of the Harkaway 

 Hunt, described in a former chapter, is by no means behind 

 hand in this respect. We should indeed be almost afraid 

 to hazard a guess as to how many little affaires de 

 coeiir have been brought to a satisfactory climax within 

 the four walls of Bullerton Town Hall. 



In our account of a recent ball there we mentioned that 



o 



