England -- Fiction; Fox hunting -- Fiction; Humorous stories; Hunting stories
'Well, I'm wrong, perhaps,' replied his lordship, patting Jawleyford
encouragingly on the shoulder; 'but, however, I'll tell you what,' said he,
'Jack here's not engaged, and he shall come to you.'
'Most happy to see Mr.--ha--hum--haw--Jack--that's to say, Mr. Spraggon,'
replied Jawleyford, bowing very low, and laying his hand on his heart, as
if quite overpowered at the idea of the honour.
'Then, that's a bargain, Jack,' said his lordship, looking knowingly round
at his much disconcerted friend; 'you dine and stay all night at Jawleyford
Court to-morrow! and mind,' added he, 'make yourself 'greeable to the
girls--ladies, that's to say.'
'Couldn't your lordship arrange it so that we might have the pleasure of
seeing you both on some future day?' asked Jawleyford, anxious to avert the
Jack calamity. 'Say next week,' continued he; 'or suppose you meet at the
Court?'
'Ha--he--hum. Meet at the Court,' mumbled his lordship--'meet at the
Court--ha--he--ha--hum--no;--got no foxes.'
'Plenty of foxes, I assure you, my lord!' exclaimed Jawleyford. 'Plenty of
foxes!' repeated he.
'We never find them, then, somehow,' observed his lordship, drily; 'at
least, none but those three-legged beggars in the laurels at the back of
the stables.'
'Ah! that will be the fault of the hounds,' replied Jawleyford; 'they don't
take sufficient time to draw--run through the covers too quickly.'
'Fault of the hounds be hanged!' exclaimed Jack, who was the champion of
the pack generally. 'There's not a more patient, painstaking pack in the
world than his lordship's.'
'Ah--well--ah--never mind that,' replied his lordship, 'Jaw and you can
settle that point over your wine to-morrow; meanwhile, if your friend Mr.
What's-his-name here, 'll get his horse,' continued his lordship,
addressing himself to Jawleyford, but looking at Sponge, who was still on
the piebald, 'we'll throw off.'
'Thank you, my lord,' replied Sponge; 'but I'll mount at the cover side.
Sponge not being inclined to let the Flat Hat Hunt field see the difference
of opinion that occasionally existed between the gallant brown and himself.
'As you please,' rejoined his lordship, 'as you please,' jerking his head
at Frostyface, who forthwith gave the office to the hounds; whereupon all
was commotion. Away the cavalcade went, and in less than five minutes the
late bustling village resumed its wonted quiet; the old man on sticks, two
crones gossiping at a door, a rag-or-anything-else-gatherer going about
with a donkey, and a parcel of dirty children tumbling about on the green,
being all that remained on the scene. All the able-bodied men had followed
the hounds. Why the hounds had ever climbed the long hill seemed a mystery,
seeing that they returned the way they came.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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