Great was the noise of
eating.
As his lordship was in the full enjoyment of his plateful of meat, he
happened to look up, and, the space 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 assistance, 'what
is the matter with my lord?'
'Oh, that Mister something!' gasped his lordship, 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 passport 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.
Pages:
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386