Mr.Spraggon was a sort of volunteer, at all events an undesired guest, unless his lordship accompanied him.

It so happened that the least wanted guest was the first to arrive on the all-important day.
Lord Scamperdale, knowing our friend Jack was not over affluent, had no idea of spoiling him by too much luxury, and as the railway would serve a certain distance in the line of Hanby House, he despatched Jack to the Over-shoes-over-boots station with the dog-cart, and told him he would be sure to find a 'bus, or to get some sort of conveyance at the Squandercash station to take him up to Puffington's; at all events, his lordship added to himself, 'If he doesn't, it'll do him no harm to walk, and he can easily get a boy to carry his bag.' The latter was the case; for though the station-master assured Jack, on his arrival at Squandercash, that there was a 'bus, or a mail gig, or a something to every other train, there was nothing in connexion with the one that brought him, nor would he undertake to leave his carpet-bag at Hanby House before breakfast-time the next morning.
[Illustration: JACK PROTESTS AGAINST ALL RAILWAYS] Jack was highly enraged, and proceeded to squint his eyes inside out, and abuse all railways, and chairmen, and directors, and secretaries, and clerks, and porters, vowing that railways were the greatest nuisances under the sun--that they were a perfect impediment instead of a facility to travelling--and declared that formerly a gentleman had nothing to do but order his four horses, and have them turned out at every stage as he came up, instead of being stopped in the _ridicklous_ manner he then was; and he strutted and stamped about the station as if he would put a stop to the whole line.

His vehemence and big talk operated favourably on the Cockney station-master, who, thinking he must be a duke, or some great man, began to consider how to get him forwarded.

It being only a thinly populated district--though there was a station equal to any mercantile emergency, indeed to the requirements of the whole county--he ran the resources of the immediate neighbourhood through his mind, and at length was obliged to admit--humbly and respectfully--that he really was afraid Martha Muggins's donkey was the only available article.
Jack fumed and bounced at the very mention of such a thing, vowing that it was a downright insult to propose it; and he was so bumptious that the station-master, who had nothing to gain by the transaction, sought the privacy of the electric telegraph office, and left him to vent the balance of his wrath upon the porters.
Of course they could do nothing more than the king of their little colony had suggested; and finding there was no help for it, Mr.Spraggon at last submitted to the humiliation, and set off to follow young Muggins with his bag on the donkey, in his best top-boots, worn under his trousers--an unpleasant operation to any one, but especially to a man like Jack, who preferred wearing his tops out against the flaps of his friends' saddles, rather than his soles by walking upon them.

However, necessity said yes; and cocking his flat hat jauntily on his head, he stuck a cheroot in his mouth, and went smoking and swaggering on, looking--or rather squinting--bumptiously at everybody he met, as much as to say, 'Don't suppose I'm walking from necessity! I've plenty of tin.' The third cheroot brought Jack and his suite within sight of Hanby House.
Mr.Puffington had about got through all the fuss of his preparations, arranged the billets of the guests and of those scarcely less important personages--their servants, allotted the stables, and rehearsed the wines, when a chance glance through the gaily furnished drawing-room window discovered Jack trudging up the trimly kept avenue.
'Here's that nasty Spraggon,' exclaimed he, eyeing Jack dragging his legs along, adding, 'I'll be bound to say he'll never think of wiping his filthy feet if I don't go to meet him.' So saying, Puffington rushed to the entrance, and crowning himself with a white wide-awake, advanced cheerily to do so.
Jack, who was more used to 'cold shoulder' than cordial reception, squinted and stared with surprise at the unwonted warmth, so different to their last interview, when Jack was fresh out of his clay-hole in the Brick Fields; but not being easily put out of his way, he just took Puff as Puff took him.