is.
He could not afford not to know Harold Smith, and Mr. Sowerby, and
the Duke of Omnium, he had said to himself. He had to look to rise
in the world, as other men did. But what pleasure had come to him
as yet from these intimacies? How much had he hitherto done towards
his rising? To speak the truth he was not over well pleased with
himself, as he made Mrs. Harold Smith's tea and ordered Mr. Sowerby's
mutton-chops on that Sunday morning.

At a little after nine they all assembled; but even then he could
not make the ladies understand that there was any cause for hurry;
at least Mrs. Smith, who was the leader of the party, would not
understand it. When Mark again talked of hiring a gig, Miss Dunstable
indeed said that she would join him; and seemed to be so far earnest
in the matter that Mr. Sowerby hurried through his second egg in
order to prevent such a catastrophe. And then Mark absolutely did
order the gig; whereupon Mrs. Smith remarked that in such case she
need not hurry herself; but the waiter brought up word that all
the horses of the hotel were out, excepting one pair, neither of
which could go in single harness. Indeed, half of their stable
establishment was already secured by Mr. Sowerby's own party. "Then
let me have the pair," said Mark, almost frantic with delay.

"Nonsense, Robarts; we are ready now. He won't want them, James.
Come, Supplehouse, have you done?"

"Then I am to hurry myself, am I?" said Mrs. Harold Smith. "What
changeable creatures you men are! May I be allowed half a cup more
tea, Mr. Robarts?" Mark, who was now really angry, turned away to
the window. There was no charity in these people, he said to himself.
They knew the nature of his distress, and yet they only laughed at
him. He did not, perhaps, reflect that he had assisted in the joke
against Harold Smith on the previous evening. "James," said he,
turning to the waiter, "let me have that pair of horses immediately,
if you please."

"Yes, sir; round in fifteen minutes, sir: only Ned, sir, the
post-boy, sir; I fear he's at his breakfast, sir; but we'll have him
here in less than no time, sir!" But before Ned and the pair were
there, Mrs. Smith had absolutely got her bonnet on, and at ten they
started. Mark did share the phaeton with Harold Smith, but the
phaeton did not go any faster than the other carriages. They led the
way, indeed, but that was all; and when the vicar's watch told him
that it was eleven, they were still a mi