"What _is_ the matter?" cried my wife, who had passed to the landing-place on the stairs before me.
"Ma'am," said one of Mr Gunter's men, shaking the lappets of his blue coat, which were covered with white dust, "the whole ceiling of the dining-room has come down."
"Yes, ma'am," replied our own servant; "and the supper and supper-tables are all smashed flat with the weight on it."
Here was a catastrophe. My wife hastened down, and I followed. Sure enough the weight of mortar had crushed all beneath it--all was chaos and confusion. Jellies, blancmanges, patés, cold roasts, creams, trifles--all in one mass of ruin, mixed up with lime, horse-hair, plaster of Paris, and stucco. It wore all the appearance of a Swiss avalanche in miniature.
"Good heavens, how dreadful!" exclaimed my wife.
"How much more so if there had been people in the room," replied I.
"What could be the cause of it?" exclaimed my wife.
"These new houses, sir, won't bear dancing in," observed Mr Gunter's head man.
This unfortunate accident was the occasion of the party breaking up: they knew that there was no chance of supper, which they had looked forward to; so they put on their shawls and departed, leaving us to clear up the wreck at our leisure. In fact, as my daughters declared, it quite spoiled the ball as well as the supper.
The next morning I sent for Mr Smithers, who made his appearance, and showed him what had taken place.
"Dear me, I'm very sorry; but you had too many people above stairs--that is very clear."
"Very clear, indeed, Mr Smithers. We had a ball last night."
"No wonder! What! do you mean to say that balls are not to be given?"
"Why, really, sir, we do not build private houses for ball-rooms--we could not, sir; the price of timber just now is enormous, and the additional strength required would never pay us."
"What then! do you mean to say that there are no balls to be given in London?"
"Oh no, sir!--certainly not; but you must be aware that few people do. Even our aristocracy hire Willis's rooms for their balls. Some of the old houses indeed, such as Devonshire House, may do for such a thing."
"But, Mr Smithers, I expect you will make this ceiling good."
"Much obliged to you sir, for giving me the preference--I will do it as reasonable as anybody," replied Mr Smithers, bowing. "I will order my workmen directly--they are only next door."