THE DAY AFTER THE BALL 219 



blessed if I know." Just have a look at the field 

 for a moment. The ladies are there, of course, 

 looking just as fresh and rosy as if they had 

 retired to rest at a reasonable hour instead of 

 dancing till four o'clock in the morning, and I 

 never did know a lady who felt or looked tired 

 after a ball. As for the men, some of them look a 

 little pale and have more or less of dark marks 

 under their eyes, but then that is only to be 

 expected, for they have other things to attend to 

 after the more serious business of the night is over. 

 Half an hour's flutter — it was unlimited loo in my 

 day — a whisky and soda, perhaps two, and a big 

 cigar or two have to be discussed whilst the events 

 of the past few hours are being talked over. Yes, 

 as usual, the ladies have the best of it the day after 

 the ball, and one lady, who had certainly passed 

 her premiere jeunesse, once told me she had 

 arrived home at six from a ball and had ridden 

 eight miles to covert before eleven. She went 

 all day, too, and, as she always does, she went 

 well. 



Meanwhile the hounds have found, and the 

 fox tries to break at the corner from which he 

 went away a fortnight ago. But close to that 

 corner are a lot of people in carriages who are 

 animatedly discussing the flirtations of the previous 

 night. So the fox takes his way back into the 

 covert and is chopped. The Master's temper now 

 is beginning to get ruffled a bit, and he reads the 

 Riot Act. In the meantime another fox has stolen 

 away, and hounds are at once put on his line. For 

 a field or two all goes well, but scent seems not too 

 good ; men are eager to " witch the world with 

 noble horsemanship," hounds are pressed, carried 



