Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour Part 33

'Well, but I s'pose we may as well fall to,' observed his lords.h.i.+p, casting his eye upon the well-garnished table. 'All these good things are meant to eat, I s'pose,' added he: 'cakes, and sweets, and jellies without end: and as to your sideboard,' said he, turning round and looking at it, 'it's a match for any Lord Mayor's. A round of beef, a ham, a tongue, and is that a goose or a turkey?'

'A turkey, my lord,' replied Springwheat; 'home-fed, my lord.'

'Ah, home-fed, indeed!' e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed his lords.h.i.+p, with a shake of the head: 'home-fed: wish I could feed at home. The man who said that

E'en from the peasant to the lord, The turkey smokes on every board,

told a big un, for I'm sure none ever smokes on mine.'

'Take a little here to-day, then,' observed Mr. Springwheat, cutting deep into the white breast.

'I will,' replied his lords.h.i.+p, 'I will: and a slice of tongue, too,' added he.

'There are some hot sausingers comin',' observed Mr. Springwheat.

'You _don't_ say so,' replied his lords.h.i.+p, apparently thunderstruck at the announcement. 'Well, I must have all three. By Jove, Jack!' said he, appealing to his friend, 'but you've lit on your legs coming here. Here's a breakfast fit to set before the Queen--m.u.f.fins, and crumpets, and cakes.

Let me advise you to make the best use of your time, for you have but twenty minutes,' continued his lords.h.i.+p, looking at his watch, 'and m.u.f.fins and crumpets don't come in your way every day.'

"Deed they don't,' replied Jack, with a grin.

'Will your lords.h.i.+p take tea or coffee?' asked Mrs. Springwheat, who had now taken her seat at the top of the table, behind a richly chased equipage for the distribution of those beverages.

"Pon my word,' replied his lords.h.i.+p, apparently bewildered--"pon my word, I don't know what to say. Tea or coffee? To tell you the truth, I was going to take something out of my black friend yonder,' nodding to where a French bottle like a tall bully was lifting its head above an encircling stand of liqueur-gla.s.ses.

'Suppose you have a little of what we call laced tea, my lord--tea with a dash of brandy in it?' suggested Mr. Springwheat.

'Laced tea,' repeated his lords.h.i.+p; 'laced tea: so I will,' said he.

'Deuced good idea--deuced good idea,' continued he, bringing the bottle and seating himself on Mrs. Springwheat's right, while his host helped him to a most plentiful plate of turkey and tongue. The table was now about full, as was the room; the guests just rolling in as they would to a public-house, and helping themselves to whatever they liked. Great was the noise of eating.

As his lords.h.i.+p was in the full enjoyment of his plateful of meat, he happened to look up, and, the s.p.a.ce between him and the window being clear, he saw something that caused him to drop his knife and fork and fall back in his chair as if he was shot.

'My lord's ill!' exclaimed Mr. Springwheat, who, being the only man with his nose up, was the first to perceive it.

'Clap him on the back!' shrieked Mrs. Springwheat, who considered that an infallible recipe for the ailments of children.

'Oh, Mr. Spraggon!' exclaimed both, as they rushed to his a.s.sistance, 'what is the matter with my lord?'

'Oh, that Mister something!' gasped his lords.h.i.+p, bending forward in his chair, and venturing another glance through the window.

Sure enough, there was Sponge, in the act of dismounting from the piebald, and resigning it with becoming dignity to his trusty groom, Mr. Leather, who stood most respectfully--Parvo in hand--waiting to receive it.

Mr. Sponge, being of opinion that a red coat is a pa.s.sport everywhere, having stamped the mud sparks off his boots at the door, swaggered in with the greatest coolness, exclaiming as he bobbed his head to the lady, and looked round at the company:

'What, grubbing away! grubbing away, eh?'

'Won't you take a little refreshment?' asked Mr. Springwheat, in the hearty way these hospitable fellows welcome everybody.

'Yes, I will,' replied Sponge, turning to the sideboard as though it were an inn.' That's a monstrous fine ham,' observed he; 'why doesn't somebody cut it?'

'Let me help you to some, sir,' replied Mr. Springwheat, seizing the buck-handled knife and fork, and diving deep into the rich red meat with the knife.

Mr. Sponge having got two bountiful slices, with a knotch of home-made brown bread, and some mustard on his plate, now made for the table, and elbowed himself into a place between Mr. Fossick and Sparks, immediately opposite Mr. Spraggon.

'Good morning,' said he to that worthy, as he saw the whites of his eyes showing through his spectacles.

'Mornin',' muttered Jack, as if his mouth was either too full to articulate, or he didn't want to have anything to say to Mr. Sponge.

'Here's a fine hunting morning, my lord,' observed Sponge, addressing himself to his lords.h.i.+p, who sat on Jack's left.

'Here's a very fine hunting morning, my lord,' repeated Sponge, not getting an answer to his first a.s.sertion.

'Is it?' blurted his lords.h.i.+p, pretending to be desperately busy with the contents of his plate, though in reality his appet.i.te was gone.

A dead pause now ensued, interrupted only by the clattering of knives and forks, and the occasional exclamations of parties in want of some particular article of food. A chill had come over the scene--a chill whose cause was apparent to every one, except the worthy host and hostess, who had not heard of Mr. Sponge's descent upon the country. They attributed it to his lords.h.i.+p's indisposition, and Mr. Springwheat endeavoured to cheer him up with the prospect of sport.

'There's a brace, if not a leash, of foxes in cover, my lord,' observed he, seeing his lords.h.i.+p was only playing with the contents of his plate.

'Is there?' exclaimed his lords.h.i.+p, brightening up: 'let's be at 'em!'

added he, jumping up and diving under the side-table for his flat hat and heavy iron hammer-headed whip. 'Good morning, my dear Mrs. Springwheat,'

exclaimed he, putting on his hat and seizing both her soft fat-fingered hands and squeezing them ardently. 'Good morning, my dear Mrs.

Springwheat,' repeated he, adding, 'By Jove! if ever there was an angel in petticoats, you're her; I'd give a hundred pounds for such a wife as you!

I'd give a thousand pounds for such a wife as you! By the powers! I'd give five thousand pounds for such a wife as you!' With which a.s.severations his lords.h.i.+p stamped away in his great clumsy boots, amidst the ill-suppressed laughter of the party.

'No hurry, gentlemen--no hurry,' observed Mr. Springwheat, as some of the keen ones were preparing to follow, and began sorting their hats, and making the mistakes incident to their being all the same shape. 'No hurry, sir--no hurry, sir,' repeated Springwheat, addressing Mr. Sponge specifically; 'his lords.h.i.+p will have a talk to his hounds yet, and his horse is still in the stable.'

With this a.s.surance Mr. Sponge resumed his seat at the table, where several of the hungry ones were plying their knives and forks as if they were indeed breaking their fasts.

'Well, old boy, and how are you?' asked Sponge, as the whites of Jack's eyes again settled upon him, on the latter's looking up from his plateful of sausages.

'Nicely. How are you?' asked Jack.

'Nicely too,' replied Sponge, in the laconic way men speak who have been engaged in some common enterprise--getting drunk, pelting people with rotten eggs, or anything of that sort.

'Jaw and the ladies well?' asked Jack, in the same strain.

'Oh, nicely,' said Sponge.

'Take a gla.s.s of cherry-brandy,' exclaimed the hospitable Mr. Springwheat: 'nothing like a drop of something for steadying the nerves.'

'Presently,' replied Sponge, 'presently; meanwhile I'll trouble the missis for a cup of coffee. Coffee without sugar,' said Sponge, addressing the lady.

'With pleasure,' replied Mrs. Springwheat, glad to get a little custom for her goods. Most of the gentlemen had been at the bottles and sideboard.

Springwheat, seeing Mr. Sponge, the only person who, as a stranger, there was any occasion for him to attend to, in the care of his wife, now slipped out of the room, and mounting his five-year-old horse, whose tail stuck out like the long horn of a coach, as his ploughman groom said, rode off to join the hunt.

'By the powers, but those are capital sarsingers!' observed Jack, smacking his lips and eating away for hard life. 'Just look if my lord's on his horse yet,' added he to one of the children, who had begun to hover round the table and dive their fingers into the sweets.

'No,' replied the child; 'he's still on foot, playing with the dogs.'