Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour Part 82

'The captain's locked the door and taken the key with him,' replied the footman; 'he said he'd be back in a day or two.'

'Back in a (hiccup) or two!' observed Sir Harry. 'Where is he gone?'

The man smiled.

'_Borrowed_,' observed Captain Quod, with an emphasis.

'Indeed!' exclaimed Sir Harry, adding, 'well, I thought that was Nabb.u.m's gig with the old grey.'

'He'll not be back in a hurry,' observed Bouncey. 'He'll be like the Boulogne gents, who are always going to England, but never do.'

'Poor Wax!' observed Quod; 'he's a big fool, to give him his due.'

'If you give him his due it's more than he gives other people, it seems.'

observed Miss Howard.

'Oh, fie, Miss H.!' exclaimed Captain Seedeybuck.

'Well, but the (hiccup) man must have a (hiccup) bed somewhere,' observed Sir Harry; adding to the footman, 'you'd better (hiccup) the door open, you know.'

'Perhaps you'd better try what one of yours will do,' observed Bob Spangles, to the convulsion of the company.

In the midst of their mirth Mr. Bottleends was seen piloting Mr. Sponge up to her ladys.h.i.+p.

'Mr. Sponge, my lady,' said he in as low and deferential a tone as if he got his wages punctually every quarter-day.

'How do you do. Mr. Sponge?' said her ladys.h.i.+p, tendering him her hand with an elegant curtsey.

'How are you, Mr. (hiccup) Sponge?' asked Sir Harry, offering his; 'I believe you know the (hiccup) company?' continued he, waving his hand around; 'Miss (hiccup) Glitters, Captain (hiccup) Quod, Captain Bouncey, Mr. (hiccup) Bugles, Captain (hiccup) Seedeybuck, and so on'; whereupon Miss Glitters curtsied, the gentlemen bobbed their heads and drew near our hero, who had now stationed himself before the fire.

'Coldish to-night,' said he, stooping, and placing both hands to the bars.

'Coldish,' repeated he, rubbing his hands and looking around.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

'It generally is about this time of year, I think,' observed Miss Glitters, who was quite ready to enter for our friend.

'Hope it won't stop hunting,' said Mr. Sponge.

'Hope not,' replied Sir Harry; 'would be a bore if it did.'

'I wonder you gentlemen don't prefer hunting in a frost,' observed Miss Howard; 'one would think it would be just the time you'd want a good warming.'

'I don't agree with you, there,' replied Mr. Sponge, looking at her, and thinking she was not nearly so pretty as Miss Glitters.

'Do you hunt to-morrow?' asked he of Sir Harry, not having been able to obtain any information at the stables.

'(Hiccup) to-morrow? Oh, I dare say we shall,' replied Sir Harry, who kept his hounds as he did his carriages, to be used when wanted. 'Dare say we shall,' repeated he.

But though Sir Harry spoke thus encouragingly of their prospects, he took no steps, as far as Mr. Sponge could learn, to carry out the design.

Indeed, the subject of hunting was never once mentioned, the conversation after dinner, instead of being about the Quorn, or the Pytchley, or Jack Thompson with the Atherstone, turning upon the elegance and lighting of the Casinos in the Adelaide Gallery and Windmill Street, and the relative merits of those establishments over the Casino de Venise in High Holborn.

Nor did morning produce any change for the better, for Sir Harry and all the captains came down in their usual flashy broken-down player-looking attire, their whole thoughts being absorbed in arranging for a pool at billiards, in which the ladies took part. So with billiards, brandy, and "baccy,'--"baccy,' brandy, and billiards, varied with an occasional stroll about the grounds, the non-sporting inmates of Nonsuch House beguiled the time, much to Mr. Sponge's disgust, whose soul was on fire and eager for the fray. The reader's perhaps being the same, we will skip Christmas and pa.s.s on to New Year's Day.

CHAPTER LXII

A FAMILY BREAKFAST

'Twere almost superfluous to say that NEW YEAR'S DAY is always a great holiday. It is a day on which custom commands people to be happy and idle, whether they have the means of being happy and idle or not. It is a day for which happiness and idleness are 'booked,' and parties are planned and arranged long beforehand. Some go to the town, some to the country; some take rail; some take steam; some take greyhounds; some take gigs; while others take guns and pop at all the little d.i.c.ky-birds that come in their way. The rural population generally incline to a hunt. They are not very particular as to style, so long as there are a certain number of hounds, and some men in scarlet, to blow their horns, halloo, and crack their whips.

The population, especially the rising population about Nonsuch House, all inclined that way. A New Year's Day's hunt with Sir Harry had long been looked forward to by the little Raws, and the little Spooneys, and the big and little Cheeks, and we don't know how many others. Nay, it had been talked of by the elder boys at their respective schools--we beg pardon, academies--Dr. Switchington's, Mr. Latherington's, Mrs. Skelper's, and a liberal allowance of boasting indulged in, as to how they would show each other the way over the hedges and ditches. The thing had long been talked of. Old Johnny Raw had asked Sir Harry to arrange the day so long ago that Sir Harry had forgotten all about it. Sir Harry was one of those good-natured souls who can't say 'No' to any one. If anybody had asked if they might set fire to his house, he would have said:

'Oh (hiccup) certainly, my dear (hiccup) fellow, if it will give you any (hiccup) pleasure.'

Now, for the hiccup day.

It is generally a frost on New Year's Day. However wet and sloppy the weather may be up to the end of the year, it generally turns over a new leaf on that day. New Year's Day is generally a bright, bitter, suns.h.i.+ny day, with starry ice, and a most decided anti-hunting feeling about it--light, airy, ringy, anything but cheery for hunting.

Thus it was in Sir Harry Scattercash's county. Having smoked and drunk the old year out, the captains and company retired to their couches without thinking about hunting. Mr. Sponge, indeed, was about tired of asking when the hounds would be going out. It was otherwise, however, with the rising generation, who were up betimes, and began pouring in upon Nonsuch House in every species of garb, on every description of steed, by every line and avenue of approach.

'Halloo! what's up now?' exclaimed Lady Scattercash, as she caught view of the first batch rounding the corner to the front of the house.

'Who have we here?' asked Miss Glitters, as a ponderous, parti-coloured clown, on a great, curly-coated cart-horse, brought up the rear.

'Early callers,' observed Captain Seedeybuck, eating away complacently.

'Friends of Mr. Sponge's, most likely,' suggested Captain Quod.

'Some of the little Sponges come to see their pa, p'raps,' lisped Miss Howard, pretending to be shocked after she had said it.

'Bravo, Miss Howard!' exclaimed Captain Cut.i.tfat, clapping his hands.

'_I_ said nothing, Captain,' observed the young lady with becoming prudery.

'Here we are again!' exclaimed Captain Quod, as a troop of various-sized urchins, in pea-jackets, with blue noses and red comforters, on very s.h.a.ggy ponies, the two youngest swinging in panniers over an a.s.s, drew up alongside of the first comers.

'Whose sliding-scale of innocence is that, I wonder!' exclaimed Miss Howard, contemplating the variously sized chubby faces through the window.

'He, he, he! ho, ho, ho!' giggled the guests.

Another batch of innocence now hove in sight.

'Oh, those are the little (hiccup) Raws,' observed Sir Harry, catching sight of the sky-blue collar of the servant's long drab coat. 'Good chap, old Johnny Raw; ask them to (hiccup) in,' continued he, 'and give them some (hiccup) cherry brandy'; and thereupon Sir Harry began nodding and smiling, and making signs to them to come in. The youngsters, however, maintained their position.

'The little stupexes!' exclaimed Miss Howard, going to the window, and throwing up the sash. 'Come in, young gents!' cried she, in a commanding tone, addressing herself to the last comers. 'Come in, and have some toffy and lollypops! D'ye hear?' continued she, in a still louder voice, and motioning her head towards the door.