I thought of it all the way from Blackwater to Clayborough.
I thought of it all the way from Clayborough to Dumbleton, as I rattled
along the smooth highway in a trim dog-cart drawn by a splendid black
mare, and driven by the silentest and dapperest of East Anglian grooms.
We did the nine miles in something less than an hour, and pulled up
before the lodge-gates just as the church-clock was striking half past
seven. A couple of minutes more, and the warm glow of the lighted hall
was flooding out upon the gravel, a hearty grasp was on my hand, and
a clear jovial voice was bidding me "Welcome to Dumbleton."
"And now, my dear fellow," said my host, when the first greeting was
over, "you have no time to spare. We dine at eight, and there are people
coming to meet you; so you must just get the dressing business over
as quickly as may be. By the way, you will meet some acquaintances.
The Biddulphs are coming, and Prendergast (Prendergast, of the
Skirmishers) is staying in the house. Adieu! Mrs. Jelf will be
expecting you in the drawing-room.
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