‘Beg pardon, sir,’ blurted Sponge; ‘my horse—­’

‘Hang your horse!’ screamed his lordship; ’it wasn’t your horse that headed the fox, was it?’

‘Beg pardon—­couldn’t help it; I—­’

’Couldn’t help it.  Hang your helps—­you’re always doing it, sir.  You could stay at home, sir—­I s’pose, sir—­couldn’t you, sir? eh, sir?’

Sponge was silent.

‘See, sir!’ continued his lordship, pointing to the mute pack now following the huntsman, ’you’ve lost us our fox, sir—­yes, sir, lost us our fox, sir.  D’ye call that nothin’, sir?  If you don’t, I do, you perpendicular-looking Puseyite pig-jobber!  By Jove! you think because I’m a lord, and can’t swear, or use coarse language, that you may do what you like—­but I’ll take my hounds home, sir—­yes, sir, I’ll take my hounds home, sir.’  So saying, his lordship roared HOME to Frostyface; adding, in an undertone to the first whip, ’bid him go to Furzing-field gorse.’

CHAPTER XXI

A COUNTRY DINNER-PARTY

[Illustration]

‘Well, what sport?’ asked Jawleyford, as he encountered his exceedingly dirty friend crossing the entrance hall to his bedroom on his return from his day, or rather his non-day, with the ‘Flat Hat Hunt.’

’Why, not much—­that’s to say, nothing particular—­I mean, I’ve not had any,’ blurted Sponge.

‘But you’ve had a run?’ observed Jawleyford, pointing to his boots and breeches, stained with the variation of each soil.

‘Ah, I got most of that going to cover,’ replied Sponge; ’country’s awfully deep, roads abominably dirty!’ adding, ’I wish I’d taken your advice, and stayed at home.’

‘I wish you had,’ replied Jawleyford, ’you’d have had a most excellent rabbit-pie for luncheon.  However, get changed, and we will hear all about it after.’  So saying, Jawleyford waved an adieu, and Sponge stamped away in his dirty water-logged boots.

‘I’m afraid you are very wet, Mr. Sponge,’ observed Amelia in the sweetest tone, with the most loving smile possible, as our friend, with three steps at a time, bounded upstairs, and nearly butted her on the landing, as she was on the point of coming down.

‘I am that,’ exclaimed Sponge, delighted at the greeting; ‘I am that,’ repeated he, slapping his much-stained cords; ‘dirty, too,’ added he, looking down at his nether man.

‘Hadn’t you better get changed as quick as possible?’ asked Amelia, still keeping her position before him.

‘Oh! all in good time,’ replied Sponge, ’all in good time.  The sight of you warms me more than a fire would do’; adding, ’I declare you look quite bewitching, after all the roughings and tumblings about out of doors.’

‘Oh! you’ve not had a fall, have you?’ exclaimed Amelia, looking the picture of despair; ’you’ve not had a fall, have you?  Do send for the doctor, and be bled.’