back, and Mr. Clavering had built capital
stables, with what were then considered the
latest improvements. The point of good
stabling was expected to let the house, as it
was in a hunting county; otherwise it had
few recommendations. There were many
bed-rooms; some entered through others,
even to the number of five, leading one
beyond the other; several sitting-rooms of the
small and poky kind, wainscotted round with
wood, and then painted a heavy slate colour;
one good dining-room, and a drawing-room
over it, both looking into the garden, with
pleasant bow-windows.

Such was the accommodation offered by
the White House. It did not seem to be
very tempting to strangers, though the good
people of Barford rather piqued themselves
on it, as the largest house in the town; and
as a house in which "townspeople" and
"county people" had often met at Mr.
Clavering's friendly dinners. To appreciate
this circumstance of pleasant recollection, you
should have lived some years in a little country
town, surrounded by gentlemen's seats.
You would then understand how a bow or a
courtesy from a member of a county family
elevates the individuals who receive it almost
as much, in their own eyes, as the pair of
blue garters fringed with silver did Mr.
Bickerstaff's ward. They trip lightly on air for a
whole day afterwards. Now Mr. Clavering
was gone, where could town and county
mingle?

I mention these things that you may have
an idea of the desirability of the letting of
the White House in the Barfordites' imagination;
and to make the mixture thick and
slab, you must add for yourselves the bustle,
the mystery, and the importance which every
little event either causes or assumes in a
small town; and then, perhaps, it will be no
wonder to you that twenty ragged little
urchins accompanied "the gentleman" aforesaid
to the door of the White House; and
that, although he was above an hour inspecting
it under the auspices of Mr. Jones, the
agent's clerk, thirty more had joined
themselves on to the wondering crowd before his
exit, and awaited such crumbs of intelligence
as they could gather before they were threatened
or whipped out of hearing distance.
Presently out came "the gentleman" and the
lawyer's clerk. The latter was speaking as
he followed the former over the threshold.
The gentleman was tall, well-dressed, handsome;
but there was a sinister, cold look in
his quick-glancing, light blue eye, which a
keen observer might not have liked. There
were no keen observers among the boys,
and ill-conditioned gaping girls. But they
stood too near; inconveniently close; and
the gentleman, lifting up his right hand, in
which he carried a short riding whip, dealt
one or two sharp blows to the nearest, with
a look of savage enjoyment on his face as they
moved away whimpering and crying. An
instant after, his expression of countenance had
changed.

"Here!" said he, drawing out a handful of
money, partly silver, partly copper, and throwing
it into the midst of them. "Scramble
for it! fight it out, my lads! come this afternoon,
at three, to the George, and I'll throw
you out some more." So the boys hurrahed
for him as he walked off with the agent's clerk.
He chuckled to himself, as over a pleasant
thought. "I'll have some fun with those
lads," he said; "I'll teach 'em to come prowling
and prying about me. I'll tell you what
I'll do. I'll make the money so hot in the
fire-shovel that it shall burn their fingers.
You come and see the faces and the howling.
I shall be very glad if you will
dine with me at two; and by that time I
may have made up my mind about the
house.

Mr. Jones, the agent's clerk, agreed to come
to the George at two, but, somehow, he had
a distaste for his entertainer. Mr. Jones would
not like to have said, even to himself, that a
man with a purse full of money, who kept
many horses, and spoke familiarly of noblemen
—above all, who thought of taking the
White House—could be anything but a gentleman;
but still the uneasy wonder as to who
this Mr. Robinson Higgins could be, filled the
clerk's mind long after Mr. Higgins, Mr.
Higgins's servants, and Mr. Higgins's stud, had
taken possession of the White House.

The White House was re-stuccoed (this
time of a pale yellow colour), and put into
thorough repair by the accommodating and
delighted landlord; while his tenant seemed
inclined to spend any amount of money on
internal decorations, which were showy and
effective in their character, enough to make
the White House a nine days' wonder to the
good people of Barford. The slate-coloured
paints became pink, and were picked out
gold; the old fashioned bannisters were
replaced by newly gilt ones; but above all, the
stables were a sight to be seen. Since the
days of the Roman Emperor never was there
such provision made for the care, the comfort,
and the health of horses. But every one
said it was no wonder, when they were led
through Barford, covered up to their eyes,
but curving their arched and delicate necks,
and prancing with short high steps, in
repressed eagerness. Only one groom came
with them; yet they required the care of
three men. Mr. Higgins, however, preferred
engaging two lads out of Barford; and
Barford highly approved of his preference. Not
only was it kind and thoughtful to give
employment to the lounging lads themselves,
but they were receiving such a training in
Mr. Higgins' stables as might fit them for
Doncaster or Newmarket. The district of
Derbyshire in which Barford was situated,
was too close to Leicestersire not to support
a hunt and a pack of hounds. The master
of the hounds was a certain Sir Harry