of comparison--bad, worse, worst--he at
length shut both, and applied himself vigorously to dressing. He soon got
into his stockings and pumps, also his black Saxony trousers; then came a
fine black laced fringe cravat, and the damson-coloured velvet waistcoat
with the cut-steel buttons.

'Dash me, but I look pretty well in this!' said he, eyeing first one side
and then the other as he buttoned it. He then stuck a chased and figured
fine gold brooch, with two pendant tassel-drops, set with turquoise and
agates, that he had abstracted from his lordship's dressing-case, into his,
or rather his lordship's finely worked shirt-front, and crowned the toilet
with his lordship's best new blue coat with velvet collar, silk facings,
and the Flat Hat Hunt button--'a striding fox,' with the letters 'F.H.H.'
below.

'Who shall say Mr. Spraggon's not a gentleman?' said he, as he perfumed one
of his lordship's fine coronetted cambric handkerchiefs with
lavender-water. Scent, in Jack's opinion, was one of the criterions of a
gentleman.

Somehow Jack felt quite differently towards the house of Jawleyford; and
though he did not expect much pleasure in Mr. Sponge's company, he thought,
nevertheless, that the ladies and he--Amelia and he at least--would get on
very well. Forgetting that he had come to eject Sponge on the score of
insufficiency, he really began to think he might be a very desirable match
for one of them himself.

'The Spraggons are a most respectable family,' said he, eyeing himself in
the glass. 'If not very handsome, at all events, very genteel,' added he,
speaking of himself in particular. So saying, he adorned himself with his
spectacles and set off to explore his way downstairs. After divers mistakes
he at length found himself in the drawing-room, where the rest of the party
being assembled, they presently proceeded to dinner.

Jack's amended costume did not produce any difference in Mr. Sponge's
behaviour, who treated him with the utmost indifference. In truth, Sponge
had rather a large balance against Jack for his impudence to him in the
field. Nevertheless, the fair Amelia continued her attentions, and talked
of hunting, occasionally diverging into observations on Lord Scamperdale's
fine riding and manly character and appearance, in the roundabout way
ladies send their messages and compliments to their friends.

The dinner was flat. Jawleyford had stopped the champagne tap, though the
needle-case glasses stood