The Ten made themselves very much at home at Mohair. One of them told
the Celebrity he reminded him very much of a man he had met in New York
and who had written a book, or something of that sort, which made the
Celebrity wince. The afternoon was spent in one of the stable lofts,
where Mr. Cooke had set up a mysterious L-shaped box, in one arm of which
a badger was placed by a groom, while my client's Sarah, a terrier, was
sent into the other arm to invite the badger out. His objections
exceeded the highest hopes; he dug his claws into the wood and devoted
himself to Sarah's countenance with unremitting industry. This
occupation was found so absorbing that it was with difficulty the Ten
were induced to abandon it and dress for an early dinner, and only did so
after the second peremptory message from Mrs. Cooke.

"It's always this way," said Mr. Cooke, regretfully, as he watched Sarah
licking the accessible furrows in her face; "I never started in on
anything worth doing yet that Maria did not stop it."

Farrar and I were not available for the dance, and after dinner we looked
about for a quiet spot in which to weather it, and where we could be
within reach if needed. Such a place as this was the Florentine
galleried porch, which ran along outside the upper windows of the
ball-room; these were flung open, for the night was warm. At one end of
the room the musicians, imported from Minneapolis by Mr. Cooke, were
striking the first discordant notes of the tuning, while at the other the
Celebrity and my client, in scarlet hunting-coats, were gravely
instructing the Ten, likewise in scarlet hunting-coats, as to their
conduct and functions. We were reviewing these interesting proceedings
when Mrs. Cooke came hurrying towards us. She held a letter in her hand.