152 The Hunting Field With Horse and Hound 



"Cold! Why, that's nothing. I haven't been warm for two 

 weeks. Think of ginger. You should not let a little thing like 

 the cold trouble you. Bring me a pitcher of ice water." 



"Ice water, sir? You mean hot water, don't you, sir?" 



"Well, bring something and be smart about it." 



Dear me, the room was so cold and damp it nearly put the 

 candle out. 



"Anything else, sir?" said the chambermaid standing in the 

 doorway and still rubbing her hands. "Would you like a hot 

 water bottle to put in your bed, sir?" 



"Yes, in the name of the Society for the Prevention of 

 Cruelty to Animals, yes, put in a dozen." 



"A dozen, sir?" 



"Yes, or you will never hear a copper jingle in my pocket." 



"I don't think there are a dozen bottles in the house, sir." 



This conversation goes on while I wash my face and hands. 



"Well, then put in eleven." 



No doubt the poor girl thinks I am crazy. She shakes her 

 head and goes on chafing her hands. 



"How many can you supply?" 



"There are only two in the house, sir. Would you like a 

 fire in the grate, sir?" 



I had already had experience with grate fires in other hotels. 

 They burn only soft coal. They open the flue while they build 

 the fire: it burns for about an hour, then all the rest of the 

 night the fog and damp comes down the chimney, until the 

 walls of your room are wet. The grate in this room would hold 

 about as much coal as a No. 7, possibly a No. 7 1-8, derby hat. 



"No, thank you. I prefer the cool invigorating air of the 

 room, but if you don't get that bed warmed by 9 o'clock, you 

 will surely turn grey." 



"I'll do the best I can, sir." 



As I go down stairs. Madam, who has had an ear to my 

 coming, meets me with a motherly smile. "What would you 



