England -- Fiction; Fox hunting -- Fiction; Humorous stories; Hunting stories
'Oh yes,' replied Mr. Jogglebury slowly; 'Mr. Puffington here draws up to
Greatacre Gorse within a few (puff--wheeze) miles--say, three (puff)--of my
(wheeze) house; and Sir Harry Scattercash (puff) hunts all the
(puff--wheeze) country below, right away down to the (puff--wheeze) sea.'
'Well, you're a devilish good fellow!' exclaimed Sponge; 'and I'll tell you
what, as I'm sure you mean what you say, I'll take you at your word and go
at once; and that'll give our friend here time to come round.'
'Oh, but (puff--wheeze--gasp),' started Mr. Jogglebury, the blood rushing
to his great yellow, whiskerless cheeks, 'I'm not quite (gasp) sure that
Mrs. (gasp) Jogglebury (puff) Crowdey would be (puff--wheeze--gasp)
prepared.'
'Oh, _hang_ preparation!' interrupted Mr. Sponge. 'I'll take you as you
are. Never mind me. I hate being made company of. Just treat me like one of
yourselves; toad-in-the-hole, dog-in-the-blanket, beef-steaks and
oyster-sauce, rabbits and onions--anything; nothing comes amiss to me.'
So saying, and while Jogglebury sat purple and unable to articulate, Mr.
Sponge applied his hand to the ivory bell-knob and sounded an imposing
peal. Mr. Jogglebury sat wondering what was going to happen, and thinking
what a wigging he would get from Mrs. J. if he didn't manage to shake off
his friend. Above all, he recollected that they had nothing but haddocks
and hashed mutton for dinner.
'Tell Leather I want him,' said Mr. Sponge, in a tone of authority, as the
footman answered the summons; then, turning to his guest, as the man was
leaving the room, he said, 'Won't you take something after your drive--cold
meat, glass of sherry, soda-water, bottled porter--anything in that line?'
In an ordinary way, Jogglebury would have said, 'if you please,' at the
sound of the words 'cold meat,' for he was a dead hand at luncheon; but the
fix he was in completely took away his appetite, and he sat wheezing and
thinking whether to make another effort, or to wait the arrival of Leather.
Presently Leather appeared, jean-jacketed and gaitered, smoothing his hair
over his forehead, after the manner of the brotherhood.
'Leather,' said Mr. Sponge, in the same tone of importance, 'I'm going to
this gentleman's'; for as yet he had not sufficiently mastered the name to
be able to venture upon it in the owner's presence. 'Leather, I'm going to
this gentleman's, and I want you to bring me a horse over in the morning;
or stay,' said he, interrupting himself, and, turning to Jogglebury, he
exclaimed, 'I dare say you could manage to put me up a couple of horses,
couldn't you? and then we should be all cosy and jolly together, you know.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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